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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620631">Speak In Tongues (Until You Listen)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo'>DynamicDuo (XylB)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, PWP, Trans Jason Todd, Trans Male Character, very background Timkon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:56:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle's never on Earth enough for Jason to be sure about anything, but he's sure about the look Kyle's giving him across the bar. He rubs a thumb over his mouth - Jason follows the movement, feels his mouth go dry when Kyle licks the tip with his tongue. Jason responds in similar fashion, curling his hand around his bottle and dragging it up in a slow, deliberate motion. Twists his wrist just to watch Kyle's mouth open and close.</p><p>- </p><p>Jason's not sure what the <em>protocol</em> is, exactly, for having a tipsy one night stand with your friend and meeting them in the workplace a week later. It's not like they're exactly on <em>texting</em> terms, not beyond professional. </p><p>- </p><p>Kyle had assumed that maybe Jason regretted it after sobering up. It stung a little, but then, what was he expecting? A perfect reciprocation? Friendships are always messy to tangle with, and Kyle had thoroughly tangled this one last week, twisted it around and flattened it out and restitched it into something it <em>wasn't</em>. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when he woke up alone, sheets and friendship mangled. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Speak In Tongues (Until You Listen)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from 'Speak in Tongues' by machineheart.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tucked in amongst Gotham hotspots, <em>The Grind</em> is one of Jason's favourite haunts. It's gay, the drinks are cheap, the bathrooms are clean, and it's got the filthiest backdoor club scene Jason's seen, a delightful contrast to the richer, more elite clubs that box it in on either side, the sort that serve champagne and martinis and girls in diamond heels, the sort with an entry fee <em>and</em> a cover charge, the sort that has <em>tabs</em> for its bars. </p><p>Here, Jason can slide a couple bills over and get whatever's on tap. Or in the fridge, like tonight, cradling his third bottle of the night. He doesn't dress up for <em>The Grind</em> like some other patrons do, all mesh and leather and skin - although Jason certainly doesn't mind the view. Beats the <em>Starlight</em> next door, with a stage and poles and diamonds draped in cleavage. </p><p>Another plus for <em>The Grind</em> - no cleavage. </p><p>Jason pushes his hair out of his eyes and idly watches the dance floor. The music here is always the fast, <em>grinding</em> sort, electric edge that buzzes in Jason's teeth and a thumping, heated beat that commands more than guides. Tonight, they've decked the place out in pink-hued neons and white fluorescents - pink and red drinks are fifty percent off tonight, and it's not even Valentine's Day. </p><p>He turns back around to lean on the counter, nudging away the empty stool beside him and browsing the other clubgoers. He catches the eye of another guy a few seats down, trades a couple glances. </p><p>And that's his favourite thing about <em>The Grind</em> - there's <em>always</em> a hookup to find. Jason has lost count of how many times he's ended up in the alley on his knees, or his back against the wall, his lips tasting of someone else's drink. </p><p>The guy down the counter gets tapped on the shoulder by someone else, and starts talking to them. Jason shrugs and turns away - no hard feelings. Not his usual type, anyway; he doesn't typically go for platinum blonds. Although the tongue piercing he spied definitely swung some points in his favour. </p><p>His phone buzzes with an update he doesn't read while he sips his drink - probably another note on the stupid fuckin' League meeting he was trapped in all morning, helping strategise for a mission he's not even <em>doing</em> - </p><p>Jason glances at the other end of the counter and freezes. </p><p>Kyle stares back, looking just as surprised as him. Kyle <em>Rayner</em>. </p><p>That's...an interesting development. Jason saw him just this morning at the meeting, knew he was back in Gotham for the time being, but hadn't expected to run into him tonight, at <em>The Grind</em> no less. </p><p>Kyle's sitting at the L part of the counter, so he's practically facing Jason across the room, and he's sitting <em>alone</em>. And Jason <em>does</em> typically go for muscular brunets. </p><p>Well, you know what they say about happy coincidences. Almost like fate. </p><p>Spurred on by the alcohol, probably-definitely a mistake, Jason leans forward on the counter and runs a hand over his mouth. Kyle sinks onto his elbows, smiles back at him, gives Jason an obvious and clear once-over. It burns like lava over Jason's whole body. He returns the favour - just this morning, he was doing the same. </p><p><em>"I think Clark's forgetting the most important part of this," Kyle murmurs to Jason, leaning in slightly. "And that's how fucking </em>boring <em>it is." </em></p><p><em>Jason chuckles under his breath. "What, alien technology doesn't just </em>fascinate <em>you?" </em></p><p>
  <em>"I can think of more interesting things to do," Kyle says, accompanies it with a meaningful glance, a playful smile. Jason grins. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah." Kyle looks at the presentation and back to Jason. "C'mon, all you need to fly those things is a steady hand. They're kid's toys." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Then I should be fine," Jason says, flexes his fingers in his gloves. "I've been told I'm good with my hands. I could fly one." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kyle stares at his fingers for a second. Jason tightens them into a fist. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Are you?" Kyle asks, and he's not talking about flying planes. Jason licks his lips. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wanna find out?"</em>
</p><p>But this time, there's no interruption from Clark telling them to shut up. This time, there's just the neon lighting, and the drinks in their hands, and the suspense tingling under Jason's skin. They've never done anything more than vaguely - or maybe more overtly, in Jason's case - flirt over business missions, nothing more than pointed glances across the Watchtower. There's a reason he lets Dick drag him into League business sometimes, and that reason is currently staring him in the face from across a crowded bar. </p><p>Kyle's never on Earth enough for Jason to be sure about anything, but he's sure about the look Kyle's giving him across the bar. He rubs a thumb over his mouth - Jason follows the movement, feels his mouth go dry when Kyle licks the tip with his tongue. Jason responds in similar fashion, curling his hand around his bottle and dragging it up in a slow, deliberate motion. Twists his wrist just to watch Kyle's mouth open and close.  </p><p>Kyle runs his tongue around the rim of his bottle, dirty and implicative in the flashy pink lighting. Jason swallows thickly. Runs a thumb up the condensation on his own bottle, locks eyes with Kyle across the bar and presses the rim into his lower lip. Kyle pushes off from the bar and disappears into the crowd - Jason's pulse thunders hot in his wrists with anticipation, the beginnings of a flush crawling up his neck - </p><p>"Is this seat taken?" A voice asks, calm and flirtatious. Jason glances up at Kyle. At the empty barstool beside him. </p><p>"Yeah," he says, and turns on the stool to lean against the bar. He slouches a little. Jerks his chin to his lap. "But this one isn't." </p><p>Kyle reaches beyond him to set his drink down - doesn't move back, afterwards, pinning Jason in against the counter. He smells like pleasantly light cologne and club sweat, a heady combination that makes Jason's mouth dry. </p><p>"Oh, <em>good</em>," Kyle murmurs, rests his other hand on Jason's thigh, <em>squeezes</em>. It's filthy, all but feeling him up at the busy bar of the local gay nightclub, lips so, <em>so</em> temptingly close to Jason's. </p><p>Instead of kissing him, Jason lifts his bottle and tips it back to drink from it. Kyle's eyes flick to his throat as he swallows, slow and deliberate. </p><p>"You wanna dance?" Kyle asks, and god, another night Jason <em>would</em>, would love to drag Kyle in by the hips and grind in time to the steady, thumping music, would love the wandering hands, the dirty presses, snuck-in kisses between songs. </p><p>Now, though, now he wants something a little less subtle. He grins, tilts his chin up, looks at Kyle's lips and back up to his eyes. When he leans in, Kyle's eyes close, and a delicious little noise rumbles through him when Jason presses their lips together, clawing up from his chest into his throat to buzz right through into Jason's jaw. He sets his beer aside, hooks his fingers into Kyle's belt loops, runs his thumbs underneath the waistband. Makes a small, answering noise into the second, the third, the soft, slow kisses Kyle fits against his mouth, lips damp from beer and spit and humidity, every inch of Jason heating up under Kyle's touch, sharp arcs of it spreading out from the fingers on his thigh, from the forearm resting against his side. </p><p>"Bathroom?" Jason asks when they part - barely part, barely an inch between them. Still, he can see the dilation of Kyle's pupils, the red on his cheeks, can feel the tiny, hot noise he makes when Jason deliberately pushes his jeans back, rubs the denim over his crotch. Jason drops his eyes to the bulge there and back up, raises an eyebrow. </p><p>"Yeah," Kyle agrees, and pushes their drinks to the far side of the counter before putting space between them - space that Jason steals back instantly, standing up to kiss him. He discovers that without the suits, they're the same height. Makes it easier to kiss him again. </p><p>Jason wants to blame his boldness on the alcohol, on the tipsy thrill running through his blood, but he knows full well this isn't anything to do with liquid courage and everything to do with the way Kyle <em>looks</em> at him in meetings, in the way Kyle responds to Jason's Watchtower flirtations, the electric chemistry sparking between them like a tesla coil. </p><p>The way to the bathroom is messy and crowded, but they make it there eventually, his fingers interlocked with Kyle's to guide them through and into the small unisex bathroom - Jason pushes Kyle against the door and locks it behind them, fits his hands to Kyle's hips like they belong there while Kyle's skate over his shoulders. Jason swallows his quiet moan in a desperate, hotter kiss, shivers when Kyle eagerly tugs him in, shoves a thigh between Jason's legs, pushes up the back of his shirt to grip at his back. </p><p>Kyle kisses like he's a drowning man, closed lips soon loosening into hurried, open-mouthed kisses, no tongue, neat but frantic, grinding up against Jason's thigh and shuddering all over when Jason rakes his nails down his sides. It's good, and it's <em>hot</em>, although Jason has to pause when Kyle tries to grab his crotch to tell him some choice things - rather here than at one of their places, easier to get away if Kyle takes it badly. </p><p>To no one's surprise, Kyle has no issue with what's between Jason's legs, and just kisses him harder as Jason guides his hand underneath the packer, over the jeans, encourages him to press up to make him shivery-hot all over. Jason pulls away to press kisses to Kyle's stubbly jaw, down his neck, press his nose into the spot behind the bolt of Kyle's jaw and inhale the heady combination from earlier, but now tinged with <em>Kyle</em>, club sweat edged out by himself, by <em>them</em>. </p><p>They agree on Kyle's place before they get past the point of no return in a club bathroom. It's closer, and it's <em>private</em>, and they stumble out of the back exit into a pleasantly cool alleyway, the nighttime breeze rippling across their heated skin and sweaty clothes and making Jason's jeans stick to the backs of his knees. But it's not enough to even remotely chill the warm, sure touch of Kyle's fingers on his arm, on his palm, leading him down the street. Close enough to walk, apparently, and Jason has no problem with that - his motorbike's parked outside the club but he's in <em>no</em> state to drive, can barely think past just <em>walking</em> between his dick and the alcohol. </p><p>And he'll always follow where Kyle leads. </p><p>Jason can't resist caging Kyle in against the railing in the elevator while it rides up to his floor, groans something incoherent into his neck when Kyle steps it up a notch, uses his hands between Jason's hips, presses up cruel and hard, surefire. </p><p>The doors open before Jason can get him back, but it's not long before they're panting against the back of Kyle's locked front door, caught between frantic, desperate kissing and taking off their shoes. Jason drops his by the coat hooks. </p><p>"Bedroom?" He murmurs, asks, <em>wants</em>. </p><p>"Follow me," Kyle whispers, answers, <em>yes</em>. </p><p>Their shirts get discarded in the dark corner between Kyle's bedroom door and the wardrobe; Kyle hits the lights, misses, only gets one of them, dim and white-hued above the window across the bed. Jason doesn't <em>care</em> - doesn't need it, anyway, has imagined this so much he could probably do it blindfolded, follow his fingers with his mouth down Kyle's body and make him moan without once opening his eyes. </p><p>Kyle ends up under him on the bed, goes easily and willingly when Jason pushes him down, buries a hand in his hair and moans as Jason makes his way down his naked chest, kisses the reddened lines left behind by his nails a moment earlier. He licks a filthy stripe next to Kyle's happy trail, blows on it to watch Kyle shiver underneath him, bite back another small moan behind his teeth. Jason's tongue feels heavy with desire, with <em>longing</em>. </p><p>He's tipsy, but not quite drunk enough to lose his coordination, manages to get Kyle's jeans open and off, tugged sharply down his thighs until they're stretched taut between them - Jason dips down to kiss up inner thigh, glances up to see Kyle watching him, watching every press of his lips, each dip of his tongue. </p><p>In experiment, Jason scrapes his teeth against skin. Kyle bites his lip and moans, muffled. </p><p>"You want marks?" Jason asks, clumsy with words but bold elsewhere, his fingers curling around Kyle's thighs to <em>squeeze</em>. He wonders if he could leave bruises on them, wonders if he could decorate Kyle's hips with pressed-in fingertips, yellow and purple the next day. A reminder. </p><p>"Yes," Kyle answers shakily, and pushes Jason's hair out of his eyes for him. "<em>Fuck</em>, yes." </p><p>"Shit," Jason pants, and nods. Tries not to think about the implication of leaving hickeys on Kyle's thighs, biting a sordid trail up to his cock, maybe higher, maybe sink his teeth into the ridge of Kyle's hipbones, make those <em>deeper</em>, <em>redder</em> - </p><p>Jason drags his nails down Kyle's thighs and sucks skin between his teeth, scraping mercilessly over it to make Kyle's hips jump and his breath stutter. His head falls back against the lopsided pillow, his fingers flex in Jason's hair. </p><p>"You can pull," Jason tells him, lower lip brushing the hair on Kyle's thigh. "I don't care." </p><p>In response, Kyle clenches his fist. Jason obediently works on another clearly sensitive spot, makes his slow way up both of Kyle's thighs to leave pink and red marks in his wake. He squeezes Kyle's thighs between hickeys, enjoys the shake that shivers through the muscle. </p><p>Jason surges up to sink his teeth into the waistband of Kyle's underwear - Kyle's head lifts up and Jason pulls his underwear down with his mouth in rough tugs, slipping it down his hips, down his cock - the head catches against the waistband and Jason has to use his hands to get them the rest of the way off, circling a hand around Kyle's base. </p><p>"Fuck," Kyle breathes. Props himself up on an elbow to watch, intent, heated, as Jason drags his hand up in a slow, dry stroke. Kyle looks like he wants to say something else, eyebrows knitted together like he's torn about it. </p><p>"What?" Jason asks, quiet, gentle. Can't help himself, presses a kiss to the head. Kyle blows out a heavy breath. </p><p>Kyle reaches over to his bedside table and takes out a couple packets. A condom and lube lands by his hip. Jason looks at them and back up to Kyle. </p><p>"I don't mind if you don't," he says, squeezes Kyle's cock for emphasis. "I trust you." </p><p>"Not for that," Kyle says, flushes red. "For - you." He closes his eyes. "Not for my <em>dick</em>," he spits out, meaningful emphasis on the last word, and he spreads his legs a touch wider. Searing heat ripples through Jason, down his spine and straight into his cock. </p><p>"Jesus," he whispers, breathes, punched out of him like a fist into his windpipe. "You wanna - " </p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>," Kyle replies, equally punchy. "Yeah, I really wanna. I - <em>cleaned</em>, before - " </p><p>Jason has to drop his head to rest it on Kyle's hip. The new knowledge buzzes over him sharper than the alcohol, sharper than arousal. </p><p>"Give me a bottle," Jason says, tossing the lube packet back up to Kyle's shoulder. Kyle obliges, and it lands with a soft <em>thud</em> by the condom. He licks his lips. </p><p>"I don't - <em>have</em> anything," he adds, gestures vaguely to his hips. "I didn't bring - " </p><p>"A - Actually," Kyle interrupts. His gaze sweeps over Jason, needling and <em>wanting</em>. "I don't know what you use, but I have - I have some stuff." </p><p>With that, he reaches into the drawer again and pulls out a familiar tangle of black straps. A dildo follows a moment later, placed carefully beside the harness on the bed. Jason's throat click when he swallows. </p><p>"It's all clean," Kyle says. "It's - the harness is unused, actually." He huffs out a laugh. "Got it for shit like this, but never found anyone interested - " </p><p>"I am," Jason assures him, and takes both. "<em>Fuck</em>, I am." </p><p>His night just got a whole lot more interesting. </p><p>With the interruption resolved, Jason pushes himself up to urge Kyle's jeans and underwear <em>all</em> the way off, thumping softly to the floor beyond the bed, settles between his open legs and runs his fingers up the dotted hickeys as he clicks open the bottle of lube. Kyle's cock rests by his hip, his hand slides into Jason's hair again when Jason licks a stripe up it, steadies it to press soft, sordid kisses down the length while his other hand busies itself lower, drags a wet thumb over Kyle's balls to make him moan again before dipping <em>lower</em>. </p><p>Kyle responds <em>beautifully</em> to his touch, hips jumping up as Jason sinks down and into him in one smooth, synchronous move. Fuck, it's <em>good</em>, <em>electric</em>, Kyle's cock pushing against the top of his mouth and flattening his tongue while his fingertip rocks in with stops and starts, gentle, easing, <em>tight</em>. It's hard to focus when Kyle's rocking up like that, bumping the inside of his cheek and sliding down onto his finger and moaning <em>brokenly</em>. Spit leaks down Kyle's dick and catches in the circle of his fingers, leaks down over his balls in a filthy drip and rolls down to join Jason's other hand, stain the bedsheets. He loosens his jaw, tightens his fist, quickens his finger - tilts his head, closes his eyes, changes the angle and this time Kyle bumps his throat. </p><p>Kyle moans loudly above him, fucks up a couple times and almost, <em>almost</em> slips into Jason's throat - Jason swallows at every moment, fighting down his gag reflex and humming to give Kyle a vibration or two. His finger sinks in all the way, presses to the hilt, wet and hot and <em>curling</em>, now, pushing up, <em>up</em>, trying to find - </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," Kyle hisses, uses the grip in Jason's hair to pull him up and off, spit trailing from his lips. Jason wipes it away with his hand. </p><p>"Fuck, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that," Kyle warns, and pants, and rolls his hips down onto Jason's finger. Like this, Jason can watch the movement through his whole body, can see it start in his shoulders, travel through his torso, notice his abs crunching up, muscles clenching in his thighs to lift himself up. </p><p>Jason doesn't have a response to that because all it does is make his cock <em>throb</em> against his underwear. He dives back down to press wet, messy kisses up Kyle's dick, strokes it with the flat of his palm, tastes slick on the slit and groans against him at that. Bypasses blowing him to bite at his hipbones, to scrape and drag his teeth over the hint of bone and <em>suck</em>, pokes his tongue out to soothe, rinse and repeat. Kyle <em>whimpers</em> above him, keeps a hand tight in his hair, moans incoherently and grasps at the bedsheets. </p><p>"Another," he pants, pleads, <em>orders</em>. Jason shudders. He's never been with anyone so <em>impatient</em>, but who is he to deny him? Who is he to say <em>no</em> when Kyle is strung tight like a violin below him and making <em>just</em> as pretty sounds? </p><p>On another night, in another week, Jason might just draw this out, might just <em>tease</em> him, might just start drooling on his cock again to make him beg and plead and try his best not to come - </p><p>But this isn't another night or another week, and Jason's getting impatient himself, so he obeys. Slicks up another finger and pushes it in beside the first, slow, slow, corkscrew and twist when Kyle gets jumpy again, starts trying to fuck himself down, face scrunched up and mouth open on hard, reckless panting. Jason takes the chance to unbutton and unzip himself, drops the packer on the floor beside the bed and presses a palm to himself, rolls his own hips down and thrusts his fingers forward in a dirty simulation of fucking Kyle. </p><p>Two fingers turns into three mere minutes later, while Jason strokes Kyle's cock with his knuckles and sinks in more marks across his hips, down the sensitive V, wiggles his tongue over the spot under the head that makes Kyle arch up off the bed, rocking up smoothly between Jason's hands like an oiled engine and Jason's the piston, curling his fingers up again and grinning at the broken, ragged noise Kyle makes, cock twitching visibly. </p><p>"Please," Kyle pants, opens black-blown eyes to look at Jason. "Please, 'm ready, <em>fuck</em>." </p><p>Jason nods helplessly, caught by the emerald green ringing Kyle's pupils, hypnotised by the red flush trickling down his neck and onto his chest. Nods and pulls his fingers out with a parting kiss to his latest hickey, shuffles back and off the bed to shove his own jeans and underwear off, put the harness on, tighten it, put the dildo and condom in place, and when he climbs back on, Kyle grabs at his shoulder to yank him down for a kiss, messy and breathless and <em>desperate</em>. He no longer smells like cologne. </p><p>Jason rolls the condom on with clumsy fingers, runs his dry hand down the shadows and dips of Kyle's body and presses on the hickeys just to feel the sucked-hot skin, just to feel Kyle shiver below him, lips catching on Jason's with every damp inhale. With a hot, intensifying curl of <em>want</em>, Jason curls his fingers around one of Kyle's hips, sits back on his knees to lift and angle and steady himself against Kyle. He glances up, raises an eyebrow in question, and Kyle nods eagerly, rests one hand uselessly on Jason's wrist by his hip. Holding him there. <em>Keeping</em> him there. </p><p>Kyle slides his hand down to lay over Jason's, pushes on his fingers, <em>presses</em> on them, urging him to hold him tighter - tight enough to <em>bruise</em>, and Jason loses all the air in his lungs in one shaky, hot exhale. Kyle nods in response to his unasked question. </p><p>Kyle moans when Jason pushes in. <em>God</em>. He moans and he nods and Jason puts a hand on his cock to ease it, gathering up all the spit pooled at the base to slick it up, drag his thumb over the tip to make Kyle shift and whimper, arms flexing attractively, knees spread carelessly, hip controlled only by Jason's hand, choosing the angle, the speed - a shudder runs through both of them, minutes later, when Jason slides in to the hilt, circles his hips in a slow, dirty figure-eight that makes Kyle tense and shake all over, leaking slick and sounds in equal measure. </p><p>A thigh clamps to Jason's side, hooks over his waist, ankle at the small of his back, hot and desperate and silently pleading - figure-eights melt into short, punchy thrusts, no more than an inch at a time, getting used to the stretch, to the feel, to the <em>sight</em>. Kyle gasps quietly, grasps at Jason's shoulder, tugs him down into a heated, sloppy kiss, more air than lips. Bedsheets rustle, bunched up beneath Jason's knees, beneath Kyle's shoulders, shifting with the pace - Jason shuffles his knees wider apart, plants a hand on Kyle's chest to fuck in harder, more pointed. Kisses down his neck instead, damp with sweat. </p><p>"Fuck," Kyle pants, rolls his hips down in filthy response. "Oh, <em>fuck</em>." </p><p>Jason growls against his pulse, tightens the fingers on his hip, bites up another red mark on Kyle's collarbone as he fucks him into the mattress, a ripple of movement that starts in Jason's shoulders and ends in Kyle's hips. </p><p>Jason pushes himself up for better leverage, flicks hair out of his eyes and settles his other hand on Kyle's hip as well to <em>tug</em> him onto his cock, matching thrust with pull - Kyle closes his eyes and <em>moans</em>, braces a hand against the headboard, arm flexing all the way down to shoulder with the counter. Sweat pops up between Jason's shoulder blades, dampens the negative space between his palms and Kyle's hips. </p><p>He squeezes, digs his fingertips in hard - <em>harder</em>, when Kyle shivers and twists, grips at Jason's wrist and pins his hand there, asking, <em>pleading</em> without words. Jason groans, leaves bruises pulling Kyle up, tightening the thrust-roll-shudder of their bodies, dialling it down to the rock of hips and the <em>sound</em>, filthy, wet, <em>consuming</em> in the heat that burns through Jason's veins, makes him pant with each press of the harness against himself. </p><p>This tight together, he can almost <em>taste</em> how close Kyle is, can see it in the furrow of his eyebrows, in the fluttering of his eyelashes when Kyle opens his eyes again, looks up at Jason like he's a lighter and Kyle is gasoline, slick and volatile and <em>tempting</em> - </p><p>"'m gonna come," Kyle says, <em>moans</em>, slams his forearm against the headboard instead to shove himself down on Jason's cock. Jason groans through his teeth and wraps shaky fingers around Kyle's dick, puts his wrist into the stroke and twist, fast, slick, an echo of his hips, both of them ragged and desperate. </p><p>Kyle arches up off the bed, slams back down, whines in his throat at the twin touches, angles back, inhales sharply and - <em>there</em>, there, he cries out, nodding and gasping and <em>please, please</em> and Jason holds the angle, fucks in and figure-eights and <em>rubs</em> until Kyle's breath comes in stops and starts, fitful and frantic. </p><p>"Oh, <em>oh</em>, <em>Jason</em> - " Kyle groans, and cuts himself off with an abrupt, whimpering exhale, eyes slamming shut and a shudder jerking all through him, ankle thumping against Jason's back, hips jumping up of their own accord - a moment later, come joins the mess on Jason's fingertips, pulses out hot and sticky and drips down back onto Kyle's abdomen - </p><p>God, Jason's gonna have wet dreams about this. Already, his name in Kyle's voice is echoing in his head, lodging into the corners and haunting him, <em>taunting</em> him, incessant and incendiary. Heat ricochets like a gunshot between his legs. </p><p>Kyle slows in shivers, and so does Jason, loosening his fingers, then his hips, then his knees, pauses to let Kyle compose himself. </p><p>Kyle doesn't seem interested in composing anything. He sucks in a breath, lowers his arm, his leg, and looks at Jason from under half-lid eyelashes. His gaze runs down Jason's body and back up. </p><p>"Can I blow you?" He asks, glances down again. Jason shivers. </p><p>"You probably want to wash it first," Jason tries to joke, fails when his voice falls straight through flat and lands on husky. </p><p>"Not that," Kyle says, grins a little. "<em>You</em>." </p><p>"Fuck," Jason breathes, and nods, and steadies Kyle's hips to slowly pull out. </p><p>The condom ends up in the trash. Harness and toy end up at the foot of the bed. And Jason ends up kneeling between Kyle's spread legs again, one hand on Kyle's knee, about to ask - </p><p>"Here," Kyle says, unprompted, and tugs Jason's hips up, and <em>up</em>, and urges him up the bed to straddle his head. </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," Jason pants, feels dizzy with desire and drink, sinks a hand into Kyle's hair. </p><p>"Here?" Kyle asks, brushes two fingers over Jason's cock. Jason nods, braces a hand on the headboard, watches when Kyle angles his hips down and lays his tongue on the length. And doesn't move. </p><p>A weak groan spirals out of Jason's throat. He rocks forward, experimentally. Kyle nods, all show and no tell, seals his lips around Jason to suck encouragingly. <em>Fuck</em>. Jason thrusts again, rubs himself carelessly on Kyle's lower lip, pants openly, too close from before and definitely too close now, wants to make it last but <em>can't</em>, doesn't <em>want</em> to, wants to grind down and fuck into Kyle's mouth just like Kyle is letting him.</p><p>Kyle lifts a hand from Jason's thigh to rest over the one in his hair, squeezes his fingers into a fist, <em>tugs</em> on it - Jason moans breathlessly, repeats the move and watches Kyle's eyelids flutter. </p><p>It fits together like a puzzle, pulling on Kyle's hair and bringing him in closer and moaning in response to the pressure on his cock, to the wet, <em>messy</em> circles Kyle swirls around him, spit-wet and slick, drool leaking out the corners of his mouth. It's <em>good</em>, even with Kyle clumsy and fucked-out, jaw loose and tongue looser, open, <em>wanting</em>, humming when Jason fucks in particularly hard, stifles a louder groan at the spark-shocks it sends through him, all his nerves alight, tingling with heat, with sensitivity, thighs trembling and knuckles white on the headboard and in Kyle's hair. Between loud, sloppy sucks, Kyle swallows, filthy, <em>dirty</em>, pants heavily, presses his tongue <em>hard</em> against the sensitive underside - </p><p>"That," Jason murmurs, pants, <em>spits</em>, "like that, fuck, 'm close - " bites back a whine and fails, shakes all over with the impending shudder, grinds filthy against Kyle's lips and curses. Scrambles to chase it, hips rolling faster, pressing harder; Kyle sinks down on him again and <em>sucks</em> - </p><p>"K - Kyle, <em>Kyle</em>," Jason coughs out, punched out, barely a warning, barely <em>can</em> warn, and comes on the next hard suck, thighs clamping to Kyle's head, shoulders curling inwards, moaning so incoherently even <em>he</em> doesn't know what he's saying, can barely <em>hear</em> himself over the rush of blood in his ears, over the overwhelming sensation. His toes crack when they curl. Kyle sucks again. It feels like a hot poker between his legs, good and sharp and forcing another jerky judder through him, moaning softly, quietly. </p><p>Gradually, eventually, Jason unclamps his thighs from Kyle's head. Kyle laps greedily at him, the rough pad of his tongue rasping over hot, sensitive skin and it's pleasant until it's abruptly too much, and that's when Jason lifts off, lets go of the headboard and Kyle's hair and shuffles down the bed to lie on top of him again, chase his satisfied sigh with a hard kiss. Open-mouthed, sloppy, tongue on Kyle's lower lip for the taste. </p><p>Jason loses himself in the seconds. Thinks about travelling south to lick at the mess on Kyle's abdomen. Does a second later, to the symphony of Kyle's shuddery gasps. Climbs back up and loses himself again in Kyle's kisses, less like he's drowning, now, but still as determined. Determination that melts into the late hour, into the waning moonlight, into the fading energy. </p><p>Jason could stay here forever. Wants to, could just <em>ask</em>, could just <em>tell</em> Kyle - </p><p>Chalks the sudden boldness up to the alcohol, to the pheromones, contents himself with the warm hands on his back, with the warm lips on his. </p><p>Kissing leads to lazing, leads to stumbling to clean up, leads to tired, thrilled giggling. Jason washes his hands, washes his face, pats down between his legs and lies on the bed to wait for Kyle. Mumbles something when Kyle slides in beside him. </p><p>Neither stay awake enough for either Kyle to ask him to sleep over or Jason to leave. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason awakes briefly in a sleepy haze, his arm pins and needling underneath him. He grunts and rolls over to face the wall, and almost falls out of the bed when his foot doesn't hit plaster. Survival instinct jolts him awake, and staring across a carpeted floor. For some reason, his bed is no longer next to the wall - </p><p>Someone breathes behind him. Jason blearily focuses on the underwear discarded beside the bed. </p><p><em>Kyle's</em> bed isn't next to the wall. </p><p>Jason sinks in a quiet breath and carefully rolls over onto his back. Kyle is asleep on his front next to him, head turned away. They're still on top of the covers. Jason can see bruises yellowing up on the back of Kyle's hips. He swallows thickly. </p><p>His phone informs him it's nine in the morning. He has five missed calls and twelve unread texts. </p><p>He glances at Kyle again. With the alcohol long worn off, he's forced to admit he wants to <em>stay</em>, wants to roll back over and go to sleep and wake up with Kyle later, maybe try and - and <em>what</em>? Sort this out? Tell him - anything? </p><p>Jason silently gets out of bed to find his clothes from last night. He doesn't want to send the wrong message by leaving before Kyle wakes up, but he doesn't...he doesn't want to make it <em>awkward</em> for Kyle. It's different when he's sober, when there's nothing to blame but himself, no cheap beer, no dim room, just him and the sunlight streaming through Kyle's east-facing window. </p><p>And maybe it'll be different for Kyle when he's sober, too. Maybe not the same kind of different. </p><p>Jason quietly zips up his jeans and pulls on his socks. Kyle doesn't stir. </p><p>Kyle's bedroom door closes with the softest <em>click</em>. Jason's shoes are still under the coat hooks. One is upside down. </p><p>Although maybe Kyle...<em>wouldn't</em> react badly. Maybe he woke up earlier and went back to sleep for <em>Jason</em> - </p><p>Jason shakes his head free of wishful thinking. </p><p>He lets himself out. </p><p>-- </p><p>Jason doesn't know what to expect at the next monthly League meeting. Everyone's there, as usual, mingling and talking and catching up socially - a couple people drift by him and Tim to say hello, to trade stories. It doesn't escape Jason's notice how Tim keeps rising on his tiptoes to peer over the crowd whenever he thinks Jason isn't looking. It's cute. </p><p>Unfortunately, Jason also doesn't see Conner here. </p><p>He does see Kyle, though. </p><p>Jason swallows nervously. He's not sure what the <em>protocol</em> is, exactly, for having a tipsy one night stand with your friend and meeting them in the workplace a week later. It's not like they're exactly on <em>texting</em> terms, not beyond professional. Funnily enough, Jason sees him often enough through both League and Gotham that it doesn't really cross his mind to specifically ask Kyle for his personal number. </p><p>Probably also because it would be stepping over an invisible boundary that Jason can pretend is still there, if he doesn't think about it too hard. </p><p>But can't stop thinking about last week. Can't stop imagining, <em>fantasising</em>, alone in his bedroom and staring up at old stick 'n glow stars, cheeks burning and hands busy and his name in Kyle's voice echoing in his mind. Tried Kyle's name in his, too, in the softly bioluminescent silence. Didn't last another fucking second after that. </p><p>But he <em>did</em> leave in the morning, and Kyle <em>did</em> wake up alone, and they haven't talked since, haven't had <em>occasion</em> to, and Jason doesn't know if Kyle wants to avoid him or... </p><p>Kyle's gaze sweeps across the room and locks on him, pinning him in place. A reflexive shiver runs down Jason's spine. Kyle's mouth twitches. </p><p>Tim follows his gaze across the room. </p><p>"Wow," he deadpans. Jason ignores him. </p><p>"Just go talk to him," Tim sighs, shaking his head. "Y'know, there's this new thing called <em>communication</em> - " </p><p>Kyle lifts his hand in a small, cheerful wave, flashes him a smile. <em>We're okay</em>. Jason feels warm all over as he waves back. </p><p>"Oh my god," Tim says. "You slept with him." </p><p>Somehow, turning eighteen has made Tim even <em>more</em> of a menace. </p><p>"<em>That's</em> where you were last week, when we couldn't reach you," Tim continues, as if it's dawning on him. Jason sighs. </p><p>"Shut - <em>yes</em>, okay, I slept with him, but it's nothing." </p><p>"Uh-huh," Tim says, crossing his arms over his chest. "<em>Nothing</em>. Sure." </p><p>"Don't you have a clone to make googly eyes at?" Jason teases, glancing at Tim. He's rewarded by an embarrassed little frown. </p><p>"Conner's not here," Tim says, and only sounds mildly grumpy. Jason nudges him fondly. </p><p>"Let's go get a seat, then." </p><p>"Aren't you gonna go talk to Kyle?" </p><p>Jason looks across the room, where Kyle is engrossed in conversation and laughter with a couple other League members. </p><p>"Nah," he replies. "Meeting's about to start, anyway." </p><p>He leads them to their usual spot at the back left of the meeting table, joining the other members slowly gravitating to the chairs. Tim sits down to his left and pulls out his phone to scroll while people shuffle around them to find seats. </p><p>"Is this seat taken?" Comes from behind Jason, familiar, <em>very</em> familiar. He bites his tongue on the instinctively filthy response he wants to give to that voice, and nods instead. </p><p>"Hey, Red Robert," Kyle says as he sits down on Jason's right. </p><p>"Hey, Key Lime." Tim shoots back automatically, glaring playfully at Kyle across Jason. </p><p>"Your brother's a nerd," Kyle stage-whispers to Jason. Jason laughs. God, it's so <em>easy</em> with Kyle, like nothing could make things awkward between them. Like Jason isn't thinking near-obsessively about the previous week. </p><p>"He gets it from his dad," he stage-whispers back. Kyle chuckles softly. </p><p>As if on cue, Bruce starts the meeting right then, a blanket of silence falling over the table. Kyle kicks Jason's ankle. Jason thwacks him right back. His phone buzzes with a text that he discreetly checks. </p><p>
  <em>get a room</em>
</p><p>Jason kicks Tim's foot in response. Tim just grins at him. </p><p>-- </p><p>"So, you finally slept with Kyle." </p><p>Jason glares at Tim. </p><p>"You fucking told <em>him</em>?" </p><p>Tim smiles unconvincingly innocently. "Nope." </p><p>"I'll prove it," Jason threatens, pointing at him. "You're <em>toast</em>, Timothy." </p><p>"Hey, maybe I figured it out," Dick says from his chair, spreading his arms. </p><p>"Oh yeah? How?" Jason asks. </p><p>"Easy," Dick replies with a shrug. "The hickey on your neck." </p><p>Jason stops his hand twitching upwards, but not quick enough to escape Dick's notice. Stupid reflexes. Kyle never left any hickeys on him, and certainly not on his <em>neck</em>. <em>And</em> it was a week ago. </p><p>Dick raises an eyebrow. </p><p>"Congratulations," he says dryly. "I thought you'd be a virgin forever." </p><p>"It's just you in that club," Jason says easily, with a shit-eating grin that makes Dick laugh. Tim snorts beside him. </p><p>"Anyway, you owe me fifty, Timmers," Dick says, holding up a palm. </p><p>"Not yet," Tim replies breezily. Jason looks between them. </p><p>"You're supposed to be my <em>brothers</em>," he complains, not very seriously. </p><p>"And that's what family's for," Tim answers. "But they're not dating, Dick. Bet's still on." </p><p>"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dick sighs, slumping in his chair. "Get your head out of your ass already, Jay." </p><p>"I feel like we're lowballing exactly how complicated things are," Jason protests. He steps towards the door to the rest of the manor. "And stop making bets on me." </p><p>"Then pull it together," Dick says. "I've got fifty riding on you, don't let me down." </p><p>"Uh-huh, love you too," Jason replies, and leaves the kitchen to go change out of his suit. </p><p>-- </p><p>It's another rainy night, a week on from the meeting, a week of Kyle furiously reliving his night with Jason in his nightly showers, a week of replaying it over and over in his head until his hand is messy and his limbs are weak. It doesn't bode well for when he has to return to Oa at the end of the month, to be aching and sore and god, he wants a round two, a round <em>three</em>, but he doesn't even have Jason's personal <em>number</em> and no way to really <em>contact</em> him outside of official channels. </p><p>Kyle glances at his phone. </p><p>No. All business phones are backed up to a League server, in case of any emergencies. He doesn't want his booty call messages stored indefinitely on Wayne Tech. </p><p>Turns out he doesn't have to worry much, later that night, because Jason shows up at his front door in civilian clothes, wet despite his umbrella. Kyle doesn't say anything. Neither does Jason. It's awkward, weird, for a long moment, until Jason drops his eyes to Kyle's lips and back up. Kyle glances down Jason's body, much lower than his mouth, and meets his eyes again. This time something flickers in them, something heated and - </p><p>Oh. <em>Oh</em>. Kyle had wondered what exactly passed between them in the meeting last week, wondered what flimsy agreement they had come to, wondered where Jason <em>stood</em> after two weeks ago. He'd snuck out before Kyle ever woke up, leaving little trace and even less answers. </p><p>Kyle had assumed that maybe Jason regretted it after sobering up. It stung a little, but then, what was he expecting? A perfect reciprocation? Friendships are always messy to tangle with, and Kyle had thoroughly tangled this one last week, twisted it around and flattened it out and restitched it into something it <em>wasn't</em>. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when he woke up alone, sheets and friendship mangled. </p><p>But Jason's looking at him with that same level, confident intent that he did in the club, when he offered Kyle a seat at his lap right there at the bar. Familiar. <em>Wanting</em>. Kyle's legs feel weak all over again. </p><p>They don't make it to the bed this time. </p><p>Jason doesn't stay over. </p><p>And shows up again four days later. </p><p>It goes downhill from there, weekly turning into semiweekly, never <em>talked</em> about, never <em>discussed</em>, god, never even agreed on until Jason's standing there, waiting patiently for Kyle's answer. </p><p>It's almost always a yes. Kyle can't resist. Can't resist tugging on Jason's jacket to kiss him, can't resist closing the gap that Jason starts, can't resist <em>answering</em> with his whole body, asking in return, finding Jason nothing but willing and wanting, oh, so <em>eagerly</em> wanting, a new kind of desperation in the way he takes Kyle's clothes off, in how quickly they get from door to bedroom, or to sofa, or to floor, when it's particularly late, or even to the <em>shower</em>, that one memorable time. Kyle maps out Jason's body like a star chart under his hands, spends enough time on top or under him to have him <em>memorised</em>, kiss at all the spots that make Jason shiver, touch all the parts that make him melt into Kyle's sheets. </p><p>It sort of becomes a schedule. Saturdays is a common one. Tuesday tends to be the other one. Kyle looks forward to them. </p><p>Tells Jason when he has to leave for Oa. </p><p>"See you on the other side," Jason says, doesn't ask, <em>says</em>, kisses him once more before getting off the bed. Kyle nods, helpless, hopeful. </p><p>The next time he sees Jason is the monthly League meeting, on his way back from Oa. Jason shows up at his that night. It's not a Saturday or a Tuesday. Kyle can't walk right the next day. </p><p>So Oa isn't a problem, for whatever their arrangement is. He leaves, and takes memories with him, of shaggy black hair and deft fingers and the stifled, cut-off moan Jason makes when Kyle first touches him. </p><p>And he returns, and refreshes it all over again. </p><p>-- </p><p>"Another late night?" Dick teases, pouring coffee into two mugs. </p><p>"Shut up," Jason says, rubs absent-mindedly at the concealer on his neck. Kyle had gotten bold last night, which Jason supposes is only fair for the amount of times he's bitten clear up to Kyle's jaw. </p><p>"Ooh, do tell," Dick sing-songs, and sets two coffees down on a breakfast table surprisingly set for four. "Actually, don't," he adds, pulling a face. "I'm about to eat." </p><p>"It's okay, I wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," Jason replies, pulling out the chair in front of a bowl of cereal and sitting down in it. "Thanks for breakfast, though." </p><p>"What about Dick's delicate sensibilities?" Tim asks as he walks in, takes a seat at one of the coffee places. Dick flips something in a saucepan and brings it over to tip eggs and bacon on Tim's plate. Odd. </p><p>"They're very fragile," Jason says, grins at Dick. </p><p>"Is it something to do with the makeup on your neck?" Tim asks, deadpan, and Jason glares at him as Dick roars with laughter. Jason jabs his spoon at Tim. </p><p>"Zip it," he orders, and jabs at Dick. "You, too." </p><p>Tim and Dick burst into giggles all over again. Jason despairs into his cereal. </p><p>Damian steps into the doorway and pauses at the sight, raising an incredulous eyebrow. He looks to Dick, and to Jason. </p><p>"Should I ask what's going on here?" He asks. Tim waves him over to the third chair, where another bowl of cereal waits. </p><p>"Nothing," Jason sighs, shoving his hair out of his eyes. "They just like bullying me." </p><p>Dick deposits a glass of orange juice front of Damian. Damian squints suspiciously at it, then him. </p><p>"What do you want, Grayson?" He asks. Dick holds up his hands. </p><p>"Hey, can't I just make breakfast for you guys?" </p><p>"No," the three of them answer in unison. </p><p>"You wound me." </p><p>Dick goes back to the frying pan to scoop it out onto the fourth plate for himself. </p><p>"Spit it out, Dick," Tim says. </p><p>"Okay, fine, I need someone to cover my patrol tonight," Dick sighs, sitting heavily in his chair. </p><p>"No," Damian says immediately. "Father won't let me go out on my own anyway." </p><p>"Nope," Tim replies. "I'm busy." </p><p>"Busy with <em>what</em>?" Dick asks, exasperated. "<em>Homework</em>?" </p><p>"Sure," Tim says. He's always been a bad liar. Dick narrows his eyes at him. </p><p>Tim's phone vibrates on the table beside Jason's elbow. He glances down enough to catch Conner's name pop up with a text before Tim snatches it up, avoiding his eyes. Jason clears his throat to draw Dick's attention to him while Tim texts back, a soft half-smile tugging at his lips. </p><p>Yeah, Jason knows the feeling. It's not homework Tim's busy with tonight. </p><p>"I'll do it," he volunteers reluctantly. Dick squints at him for a long moment. </p><p>"Huh," he says, leans back in his chair with a shrug. "Okay. Didn't think it would be that easy." </p><p>"I'm just full of surprises," Jason jokes, digging his spoon under a mouthful of cereal. Tim locks his phone. </p><p>"So what makes you too busy to patrol?" Tim asks Dick, smiling innocently. </p><p>"Something that sounds a lot like none of your fucking business," Dick replies cheerfully, cutting into his food. </p><p>Jason and Tim and Damian trade a look. </p><p>"Ten dollars it's a date," Jason says. </p><p>"Fifteen it's a case," Tim adds. </p><p>"Twenty it's nothing," Damian says. Fuck, he's got a good point. Dick might just be slacking. </p><p>"Hold up, I want to change my bet," Jason says, but Tim and Damian shake their heads. </p><p>"No backing out now," Tim tells him. </p><p>"Hey, hey, what the fuck?" Dick interrupts, spreading a hand. "Excuse you, stop placing bets on my personal life." </p><p>"Now you know how it feels," Jason says. </p><p>"That's different," Dick protests, pointing at Jason with a fork. "<em>Yours</em> is because all you're doing is <em>dancing</em> around it - " </p><p>"Shut up," Jason hisses, jerks his head to Damian, who, as far as Jason's aware, doesn't know anything about his...<em>thing </em>with Kyle. Although his brothers might not be above telling him - after all, it's not like Damian's twelve anymore. He's just started high school, and Jason's sure he's probably heard worst things there - </p><p>Tim shakes with laughter. </p><p>"You're worried about <em>Dami</em>?" He asks through his snickering. </p><p>Jason looks to his left to lock eyes with Damian, who's struggling to keep a smirk on his face, hints of a grin shining through. </p><p>"He bet a hundred on you," Dick says. Jason's eyes widen. Damian bursts into giggles. </p><p>"On - <em>Damian</em>!" </p><p>"Don't worry, Todd, I bet in your favour," Damian says, calmly patting his arm. "I fully believe you and Rayner will come to a suitable arrangement." </p><p>Jason spoons another mouthful of milky cereal into his mouth. </p><p>"I hate this family," he says around it. His brothers collapse into fresh giggles. </p><p>-- </p><p>Sometimes Jason likes watching the stars. Always has, growing up, tracing constellations in the sky and counting the twinkles of far-off planets, but it carries a different meaning now. No longer just idle gazing, or numbering and naming. </p><p>He holds a map in his hands. At this time of year, if the chart is right, Oa should be above and to his right a little. Not visible, of course, too far away, but Jason likes to imagine he can see green flashes in the distance, that he can see past the night sky. </p><p>It's a little stupid, but he doesn't really care. It's not like Kyle will ever <em>know</em>. He won't find out about the faded corners of the map in Jason's fingertips, about the flaking crease in the middle of it, worn from use. </p><p>He won't find out how Jason looks fondly up at the stars, makes a wish on the falling ones, always the same, tucked behind his teeth and tingling with false hope. </p><p>"I wondered when you'd steal my spot." </p><p>Jason huffs out a laugh. Dick steps up beside him and leans on the railing, wrists crossed on the metal. Self-consciously, Jason folds the map. </p><p>"I didn't know this was your spot," he says. </p><p>"One of them." A white cloud of breath curls out of the corners of Dick's mouth on his gentle exhale. Jason sets his forearms on the railing. A jet passes overhead, its red and green wing lights twinkling just like the starry backdrop. </p><p>"I had an older sister - figure, once," Dick says. "Back in Haly's. Not biologically, obviously, but - she was another acrobat." He drums his nails. "She was, uh, she was interesting. Believed in astrology and all that stuff, phases of the moon and the alignments of the planets. I never went in for that, but she did teach me some constellations." </p><p>Dick works his jaw and huffs out in a sharp exhale. </p><p>"She was one of the better role models I had," he finishes. Silence hangs in the space between them. </p><p>"I was always interested in space," Jason offers. "One of my brothers - y'know, before here - used to camp out with me under 'em. Taught me the constellations." He glances down at his hands and back to the sky. "Bruce got me a telescope on my fourteenth birthday." </p><p>"The one in your room?" </p><p>Jason nods, smiles. "Yeah, the one in my room. I used to try and map out planets with it." </p><p>"Did you get far?" </p><p>"Not really." Jason laughs softly. "I could never find Venus." </p><p>Dick chuckles warmly. Jason connects dots into constellations. </p><p>Dick nods to Jason's hand. "What's that?" </p><p>Jason lifts the map to glance at it, folded up in his fingers. </p><p>"It's nothing," he says. "Just a map." </p><p>Dick glances at him. Looks away again. </p><p>"So, where does it say Oa is?" He asks, sharply specific, like a knife between the ribs. </p><p>"To the right of Orion," Jason answers, jerks his chin up at it. He doesn't want to talk about this with Dick. He can barely think about it, himself, god, what is he <em>doing</em>, watching the stars on the roof of Wayne Manor like a pining dog? He's pathetic. </p><p>Dick hums in acknowledgement. Puffs out another cold-tinged fog of breath.  </p><p>"I'm guessing you won't be back before midnight," he says. Glances at Jason. Jason's cheeks burn at the question. </p><p>"I don't know," he says. Sure, he'll stop by Kyle's, maybe, if the night isn't too rough, but it's up to Kyle to invite him in. Dick taps his fingers against the railing. </p><p>"Look," he starts, "I know we were all...making bets on this, and everything - " </p><p>"I don't mind the bets," Jason sighs, puffs out a laugh. He thinks they're funny, if anything. </p><p>" - <em>but</em>, I want you to know I'm not really in it for the money." </p><p>Jason looks at him. Dick avoids his eyes - always has, when it comes to genuine discussion. </p><p>"Thought you wanted that fifty," Jason replies, easier to roll with a joke than take the punch. Dick huffs. </p><p>"It'd be a nice bonus," he admits. "But it'd be a bonus to you being happy." </p><p><em>Happy</em>. With <em>Kyle</em>. </p><p>The problem is, Jason would be. But neither of them have made a move, and Jason doesn't want to tie Kyle to Earth, and he doesn't want to keep him hanging around when he's busy with the underbelly of Gotham, doesn't want to lead him on and end up hurting him when it turns out to be too much for Kyle. </p><p>If. Maybe it wouldn't be. </p><p>But it's what ended all of Jason's other relationship attempts. For a Gotham-based hero, he's not that grounded. He likes to work, likes to sink his teeth into a mission and see it through to the end, bitter or not, and he doesn't want to break Kyle's heart with that attitude. </p><p>"Well, you'll probably lose that fifty," Jason says, looking up in the direction of Oa. Dick thankfully doesn't press him. </p><p>"I'll take my chances," he says instead, and looks down at the manor gardens. </p><p>Silence thuds like a heartbeat between them. Jason checks his watch. He has to go soon, but he can linger up here for a few more minutes. And if Dick's going to come up here and flesh out all the quiet, unspoken words Jason keeps carefully locked away, then Jason's going to satisfy his curiosity right back. </p><p>"Why do you need me to cover you tonight?" Jason asks quietly. Dick sighs. </p><p>"I...met someone," he says. Jason blinks in surprise, but doesn't turn to him. Lets Dick keep the thin pretence of privacy. </p><p>"Congratulations," Jason murmurs. Dick barks out a laugh. </p><p>"She's a civilian," he adds. Jason nods sympathetically. The dating game is always hard if you try to break out of the vigilante pool. It's why he relies on encounters from <em>The Grind</em>, why he's never really put himself out there as looking for more than a fun night. </p><p>But he hasn't done either of those for a couple months, though. Not since Kyle. </p><p>"You're seeing her tonight?" Jason asks. Dick nods. Jason rubs his thumb over the soft paper of the map. </p><p>"How long?" He asks. Dick lifts one shoulder in a forced shrug. </p><p>"A couple weeks," he admits. Drums his nails. "But I really like her." </p><p>Jason nods. Glances sidelong at his brother, spilling what he usually keeps so close to his chest. </p><p>"Don't tell the others," Dick adds, a playful threat edging into his voice. But Jason can pick out the worried quaver underneath it. </p><p>"I won't," Jason promises. Pauses. "Where are you going tonight?" </p><p>"Dinner and the arcade. Her choice," Dick says. Smiles softly, privately, to himself at the thought. Jason pretends not to see it out of the corner of his eye. </p><p>Jason's watch alarm beeps. He sighs. </p><p>"I have to go," he says. "City's not gonna patrol itself." </p><p>"Hey." Dick grabs his forearm. "Thanks. For tonight." </p><p>"Of course." Jason places his hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezes fondly. "You know I'd do anything for you, Dick." </p><p>"Don't go getting all sappy little brother on me." </p><p>"Too bad, I'm a package deal," Jason teases, but softens his smile. "I'm happy for you." </p><p>"...thanks."</p><p>Dick doesn't follow him down. Jason tucks his star chart into the back pocket of his jeans and makes his way all the way down to the Batcave to get ready for his solo patrol. </p><p>-- </p><p>Kyle's not doing much more than watching shitty late-night TV when a knock resounds on his front door. He frowns and turns off the TV to investigate - it's a little late for any visitors, past midnight, and if it was an emergency then either his phone or his ring would have gone off. Or both. </p><p>To his surprise, Jason's standing on the other side of the door in his Red Hood outfit. One hand dangles by his side, his helmet clutched between the fingers. </p><p>"Wh - are you okay? Are you injured?" Kyle asks, automatically searching for the telltale shine of blood anywhere, for a rip, a hole - </p><p>"No," Jason says, and Kyle meets his eyes again. Jason's looking at him with that piercing, <em>sharp</em> gaze of his, laser-focused and <em>hot</em>, slicing through Kyle like a warm knife through butter. </p><p>Oh. <em>Oh</em>. </p><p>Jason steps forward, closer to Kyle, cutting a yard to a foot. He slowly reaches out to fist a hand in Kyle's shirt, his eyes flick down to Kyle's lips and back, and Kyle's the one to close the gap. Eager, wanting - <em>god</em>, he wants, running his palms down Jason's armoured back and tugging him over the threshold by his hips - Jason kicks the door shut behind them and drops the mask, drops his gauntlets, the jacket, reaches down to pull out and drop his guns, all without breaking the kiss. Kyle shrugs out of his hoodie and walks Jason back to the sofa, fingers already teasing at the armour latches along Jason's spine. </p><p>Armour panels fall carelessly to the floor behind them, a trail leading to Kyle's sofa that ends with the top half of the Kevlar lining in a heap by the arm. Kyle pushes Jason down onto the sofa and climbs easily onto his lap, straddling his thighs and skating his hands down Jason's warm, <em>naked</em> front, curls his fingers to drag through the happy trail that disappears into more Kevlar lining. Muscles flex under his palms and teeth nip at his lower lip, fingers ruck up his shirt. </p><p>"Shoulder's bruised," Jason murmurs into the kiss, and Kyle cracks an eye open to see the yellow-purple blossoming across Jason's left shoulder and halfway down his bicep. He nods. He fits his fingers behind Jason's jaw and tilts his head up to kiss him better, <em>deeper</em>, pressing their lips together over and over until they're halfway numb. Jason's damp lips catch against his with every slight inhale, hands running down Kyle's sides, curling around his hips, grinding him down against the hard panels of armour. Kyle groans softly. Fingers dig harder into his hips through the jeans. A promise. </p><p>But Kyle has other ideas tonight. He nudges Jason's head aside to press messy kisses down his neck, over his pulse, thundering hot under his skin - he moans quietly into Kyle's ear, rocks his hips down again, and Kyle's head spins with the noise. He drifts back up for another kiss and then shuffles backwards, bracing his hands either side of Jason to climb down onto the floor and kneel between his thighs. </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>," Jason pants. "Fuck." </p><p>Kyle shoulders his legs wider open and starts working on the armour panels over Jason's hips and crotch, disconnecting them with practised ease to let them drop carelessly onto the floor. With just the lining exposed, Kyle curls his fingers around Jason's thighs and tugs him down the sofa - Jason slumps obediently, another soft, blisteringly hot noise escaping him when Kyle thumbs the hidden zipper down and spreads the flaps of lining and underwear. </p><p>A hand pushes through his hair when Kyle leans up to kiss down Jason's happy trail, burying his nose in hair as he follows it down, zipper teeth cutting into his cheeks. </p><p>Jason moans at the first touch of Kyle's lips on him. Kyle mouths at his cock until the fingers in his hair tighten, until another electrifying noise spills from Jason's throat, and when he presses his tongue to the underside it's like licking a battery, a shock of arousal bolting down Kyle's entire body to settle between his legs. He growls softly against sensitive skin just to get a reaction, and Jason's coughed-out groan is more than enough to make Kyle's dick twitch in his jeans. </p><p>"<em>Shit</em>," Jason breathes, hips lifting as Kyle sinks down on him, sucks just to earn himself another moan. When he glances up, he sees Jason looking at <em>him</em> - not at the ceiling, not at the wall, not even at Kyle's mouth - at <em>him</em>, his gaze just as heated and piercing as it was at the door. Except now the green of his irises is edged out by the blown-black of his pupils, and not even the dim light can hide the pink flush that dusts his cheekbones. When Kyle runs his tongue in a circle, Jason shudders in steps - hips up, then torso, then shoulders bending inwards, then jaw twitching, mouth open on a soundless exhale, eyelids fluttering. </p><p>Kyle's cheeks hollow on his next suck. Jason's sharp inhale seems to break whatever spell lingered between them, and Kyle closes his eyes again to focus on his mouth, bobbing as much as he can with Jason's hand firm on his head, with his hips rocking up increasingly harder, <em>faster</em>, fucking Kyle's mouth. Kyle groans involuntarily, panting hard through his nose as he licks up Jason with the flat of his tongue, loosens his jaw to circle his tongue easier around him, pull out all the telltale noises and shivers that mean he's getting close. His cock twitches against Kyle's lips. </p><p>With a grunt, Kyle tears his hand from Jason's thigh to reach down to himself, grinding the heel of his hand against the zipper. </p><p>"Fucking <em>Christ</em>," Jason swears, and Kyle <em>moans</em> again, quiet and soft as his own hips jerk forward. With an effort, he withdraws his hand, curling it around the back of Jason's knee instead to tug him closer - he doesn't want to come just yet, no, he wants <em>Jason</em> to do that for him. It's filthy, <em>needy</em>, but just the thought of how Jason might return this favour curls hot in him, zips up his spine with searing heat. </p><p>Kyle has to pop off to circle his jaw to try and ease the ache settling in it - a <em>good</em> ache, one he always wishes lasts longer than it does - and puts his fingers on Jason in the interim. Jason curses hotly, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes lock on Kyle, <em>watching</em> him. Spit pools under Kyle's tongue. </p><p>He locks eyes with Jason and leans forward to brush his tongue over the tip of his cock, lifts up an inch to let Jason watch drool drip down onto him. Jason's next moan edges into a whine as he shifts on the sofa, cheeks burning brighter. </p><p>See, that's one of two problems with hookups. He knows all of Jason's guilty, <em>filthy</em> little pleasures. </p><p>Kyle spits on his cock. Jason tugs on his hair and <em>whimpers</em>. Kyle wipes away the string of saliva between his lower lip and Jason and rubs his fingers in the new mess he's made, smirking a little up at him before replacing fingers with mouth again. The sound of it is wet, almost <em>obscene</em> in the space of Kyle's apartment, but it's soon edged out by Jason's small, stuttering little noises, tumbling into each other every time Kyle breaks his circle to undulate his tongue against <em>all</em> of his cock. But he doesn't waste much more time with tricks. He's already got Jason shaking under him, hips jerking up eagerly, fingers pulling on Kyle's hair in that way that makes his scalp tingle pleasantly all over, grinding himself against Kyle's mouth and swearing softly in the space between them. </p><p>"Fuck, fuck - I'm close," he gasps, suddenly noisy. "I'm - <em>ah</em>, fuck, <em>fuck</em>, 'm gonna - " He swallows a moan and fucks recklessly into Kyle's mouth, rubbing against his tongue and trembling at the firm, constant circles Kyle's laser-focused on making. He growls to give Jason a vibration, runs the point of his tongue up the underside, swirls it over the head - </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>, Kyle, fuck, <em>ah</em>," he spits, and comes with a cut-off groan, one hand forcing Kyle's head down and the other white-knuckling the sofa. Kyle shivers all over at the use of his name, at the curve of Jason's palm on his head, at the frantic, careless way he rocks up against him, shoulders curling forward as if to double over with the force of it. Kyle can feel his thighs shake even under the armour. </p><p>Jason loosens the pressure on Kyle's head. Kyle stays where he is, regardless, lapping at Jason until all the shivers melt into another groan. He hears Jason's shoulders hit the sofa, a sigh escaping him. Reluctantly, Kyle pulls off, presses kisses to Jason's cock just to feel it twitch, licks the tip to make Jason pant quietly. Jason looks like a damn wet dream above him, shirtless except for the lower half of his outfit, hair mussed from Kyle's fingers earlier, a tempting trail of hair leading straight down to his cock, swollen and soaking wet with Kyle's spit. It's enough to almost shine in the low light. Kyle runs a thumb up the length, lazily considering. </p><p>Jason's hand slips from his hair and both appear on his shoulders, urging him up off the floor and onto Jason's lap again - good, because that's exactly where Kyle wants to be, unable to stifle his quiet moan at the way Jason <em>manhandles</em> him, tugging his hips up close, leaning up to kiss his own mess off his lips, deftly unzips his jeans and pulls down his underwear and wraps a warm, calloused hand around him. </p><p>The second problem with hookups is, Jason knows all of <em>Kyle's</em> guilty, filthy pleasures. So he reaches under Kyle to run fingers over himself, getting them thoroughly wet and messy before he wraps them around Kyle's cock instead, slicking him up with his come. Kyle shudders violently, slides a hand into Jason's hair, fucks into his fist just like Jason wants him to, chuckling softly against his jaw. Cocky motherfucker. </p><p>He's not cocky for long, though, panting just like Kyle is as he jacks him off, hand on his cock and lips on his throat. Kyle braces his forearms on Jason's shoulders and swears into his hair. His shirt sticks to him between his shoulder blades, disturbed only slightly by Jason's other hand shoving up under the fabric and dragging nails down his side, down to his hip - fingers curl around it and <em>squeeze</em> and it's so reminiscent of how Jason would fuck him that Kyle moans out loud. Teeth scrape over the tendons in his neck, move past to the flatter part and tug skin between them, sucking up to make a mark. It tingles, shivery-hot, and that combined with the way Jason takes control of his hips, moving them <em>for</em> him, makes him stumble closer to the edge. </p><p>The ache in his jaw settles into persistent, a dirty reminder, one that makes him flush hot all over as Jason moves down to leave another hickey, teeth sharp enough to make Kyle's cock twitch in his grip. Jason pauses to spit in his palm and his hand returns deliciously wetter, tight and firm and <em>fast</em> just how he likes it, a thumb detouring every so often to swipe over the head, the slit - so sensitive it's almost painful, but Kyle's always liked it like that. And Jason does it so <em>well</em>, pairing teeth with thumb, nails with squeezes. It makes Kyle dizzy, all the sensation, and all he can do is hold <em>on</em>, gasping and moaning and turning to putty in Jason's hands, just like he fucking <em>always</em> does. His hips fuck forward of their own accord, chasing the sharp, hot-poker sensation that the twist of Jason's wrist sends through him. </p><p>"Good?" Jason asks breathlessly, kisses leading back up to Kyle's jaw, teeth latching on underneath it to settle in. </p><p>"<em>Yeah</em>," Kyle pants, can't do much more else, "it's really fuckin' good, please - <em>fuck</em>, fuck - " </p><p>A whimper slips out before he can stop it, one hand holding onto the back of the sofa and the other onto Jason's shoulder as he frantically fucks his fist, so close he can <em>taste</em> it, feel the tremble setting in across his shoulders. Slick leaks from the tip in a filthy bead - Jason swipes it away and mutters something Kyle can't make out into the newest hickey on his jaw, something rough and dirty, something that sounds like his <em>name</em> - </p><p>"C'mon, Kyle, yeah," Jason murmurs again, louder this time, and Kyle <em>whines</em>. Can't help it, can't help <em>anything</em> - </p><p>"<em>Jason</em>, Jason, fuck, <em>fuck</em>," he whimpers, and comes with a shudder - a second later, come spills over Jason's fingers, dragged back down by his palm, spurts sticky between them onto Jason's abdomen. </p><p>Jason's hand pulls all the shudders out of him, stroking from base-to-tip and twisting generously around the head while Kyle shivers uselessly in his lap, panting incoherently into Jason's hair and just <em>enjoying</em> it, pleasure settling into warmth from his scalp all the way to his curled toes, muscles gradually unclenching. Jason slows his hand while Kyle comes down, loosening the grip so it isn't so overwhelming to his overheated nerves. </p><p>Unfortunately, eventually, the sizzling little aftershocks turn into sharp oversensitivity, and Kyle nudges Jason's hand away with a shaky sigh. Jason politely tucks him back in and shifts to kiss up his jaw to his mouth, coaxing him back into slow, languorous kisses that melt into each other until Kyle can't remember where he ends and Jason begins. A warm hand appears on his back, a strong arm curls around his waist, and Kyle would love to do nothing more but sit here and make out with Jason until his jaw aches anew, but the angle is unpleasantly steep on his neck, so he shuffles out of Jason's grip to dismount him and flop onto the sofa beside him instead. </p><p>Jason follows with his mouth, one hand on Kyle's cheek to urge him back in - and Kyle goes easily, eagerly, running an appreciative hand down Jason's bare chest and humming against his lips. It feels nice, here, with only inches between them, with touch and give and take - for a few long, indulgent seconds, Kyle imagines that they never break the charade, that they could <em>have</em> this. That he could have <em>Jason</em>, that he could have more than a fleeting touch. Jason makes him dizzy and grounds him again, keeps him tethered to Earth even when he's all the way up on Oa. </p><p>But they have to break apart eventually, and with it, the charade. Jason smiles at him, so soft and <em>open</em> that it breaks Kyle's heart a little that he can't see that in the mornings. But Jason is nothing but genuine, and heart-sleeved. To a fault. </p><p>And that's why Kyle knows he can never have anything more than just messy, handsy nights with him. He can't drag Jason into...into <em>whatever</em> it would be, into long-<em>long</em>-distance, into Earth to Oa video calls and never a return ticket when he has to return to the stars. </p><p>He doesn't want to hurt Jason like that. Jason deserves better - he deserves someone on <em>Earth</em>, someone who won't disappear for stretches of time, someone who won't end up hurting him with the distance like Kyle will. Like Kyle <em>has</em>, with previous relationships. </p><p>"How'd you get the shoulder?" He asks, voice cracking with how <em>dry</em> his throat is. Jason rolls said shoulder and zips up the fly of his suit. </p><p>"Riddler tried to break it," he says evenly. Grins again. "Didn't get far." He drags lazy fingers through the mess on his abdomen. Kyle's mouth waters just looking at his sticky fingers. </p><p>"Can I use your shower?" Jason asks, pressing his fingertips together. Unsticks them. </p><p>"Yeah, 'course," Kyle replies. Tips his head back against the sofa. Closes his eyes. </p><p>Beside him, he hears Jason strip off the rest of his clothes and then footsteps fade as he heads back through the bedroom to the bathroom. The shower starts in the distance. </p><p>Kyle blows out a long, aching breath. Cracks his eyes open to survey the damage in his apartment, the trail of suit parts, of weapons, of his hoodie, leading to the sofa. He gathers himself enough to clean it up, placing Jason's stuff by the rest of his suit and tossing his own hoodie into the corner of the sofa, where it can stay for now. He debates on turning on the light, and doesn't in the end. Feels different under cover of artificial darkness, their little meetings. </p><p>He glances at the calendar opposite the sofa arm while he half-heartedly clears the coffee table of wrappers. His next liftoff is in two days, to disappear for a month, in Earth-time. </p><p>"Thanks," Jason says from the bedroom, startling Kyle. He turns around to see the source - and gets startled again by what <em>scandalously</em> little Jason is wearing, just a towel tied around his hips, leaning against Kyle's bedroom door like that's <em>normal</em>. </p><p>Kyle is acutely aware of the darkening hickeys on his neck. They tingle under Jason's slow, sweeping gaze. </p><p>"Anytime," he answers, smiles at Jason across the dim room. Jason returns it, handsome and sweet and oh-so-genuine it just digs into the space between Kyle's ribs. </p><p>Fuck, Kyle's gonna miss this man for a lot more than his dick. </p><p>"What, you lose all your clothes in there?" Kyle jokes, fully distracted by the amount of <em>skin</em> on display. </p><p>"I only have my suit," Jason says, and Kyle kicks himself internally. Yeah, of course Jason didn't have any clothes. He didn't <em>come</em> in any clothes. </p><p>"And underwear," Jason adds, and unties the towel. To Kyle's agony and relief, he's wearing said underwear underneath it, tantalisingly low on his hipbones. </p><p>Kyle only <em>just</em> remembers to close his mouth. </p><p>"I think it suits you," he says, <em>stupidly</em>. <em>Stupid</em>. They barely talk <em>during</em>, and there hasn't been an afterwards <em>yet</em>, and here Kyle is, still flirting on unsure footing. He doesn't even know where they <em>stand</em> right now. Guesses it's better than the first time, with no alcohol to blame it on, but it leaves everything feeling more <em>exposed</em>, more <em>open</em>, more <em>real</em>. </p><p>Kyle leaves in two days. He's not sure he's ready for <em>real</em>. Not sure either of them are. </p><p>"I'll keep that in mind," Jason says, and disappears briefly to put his towel in a hamper before reemerging to approach the sofa. </p><p>Kyle hovers nervously near Jason and his dismantled suit, Jason seemingly caught between thinking and speaking, and Kyle's traitorous heart jumps into his throat and puts forbidden words on his tongue - <em>you can stay over</em>; <em>it's late, stay the night?; y'know, I don't mind you sleeping here; my bed's big enough for two</em> - and he swallows them down with force. Jason also settles on silence, whatever question was on his face now carefully wiped away. </p><p>He starts putting on the suit, and Kyle's window of opportunity slams shut. Jason neatly reattaches armour panels, latches the boots, tugs on the gauntlets. Everything falls into place with a satisfying <em>click</em>, even the guns in their holsters on his thighs. Even the helmet when he slots it onto a clip on his belt. </p><p>"I'll see you around?" Jason says, asks, searching Kyle's eyes for an answer Kyle can't give. </p><p>"I'm about to go to Oa," Kyle blurts out. "For a month." </p><p>"Oh." </p><p>Silence stretches like a canyon between them. Kyle almost wants to kiss Jason. Wants to ask if he'll have something to come back to, but that's unfair to both of them. Unfair to expect Jason to stick around, unfair to assume Kyle won't be delayed on his return. </p><p>"I have business in the Watchtower," Jason says. "I'm staying a couple nights up there in about a month." He shrugs. "A little over a month." </p><p>"How many of you are going up?" Kyle asks. It's not the question he wants to ask. </p><p>"A few of us." Jason glances out the window. "It's only a small team, though, it's for scouting." He pauses. Looks back at Kyle. "So, y'know, if you're in the area then...see you up there?" </p><p>"I usually stop over at the tower on my way back down," Kyle replies. Jason nods. </p><p>"Well, I guess I should get going," he sighs. Somehow, Kyle doesn't stumble following him, stops a few steps back as Jason opens the door. </p><p>"Hey, have fun on Oa," Jason says, fits on his mask and flashes Kyle a sunny grin. "Tell John I said hi." </p><p>"Yeah, I will," Kyle says with a smile. "Tell Red Robert to stay out of trouble."</p><p>Jason laughs. "I'll try my best." </p><p>He takes out his grapple gun and shoots a line up and out. The rope pulls taut. Jason pauses, thumb hovering over the pull button. </p><p>"Hey Kyle," he says, licks his lips. "I wanna see you back here in one piece, okay?" </p><p>As confessions go, it's not much. But it's not their usual parting. </p><p>"Won't make promises I can't keep," Kyle replies, but wishes he could. </p><p>"Well then, do your best," Jason says. "For me." </p><p>His voice softens on the last two words, all his trademark cocky-confident sarcasm melted away like cotton candy to show the bone. It pulls a quiet, unheard gasp out of Kyle. </p><p>Jason clears his throat and presses his pull button.</p><p>"For you," Kyle promises, but Jason's already zipped away. </p><p>-- </p><p>Kyle doesn't keep that promise. Well, he sort of partially did - he did his <em>best</em>, but he still wound up in the med bay with an oddly amused John patching him up. </p><p>It was <em>supposed</em> to be an easy fight - they ran into a couple of Yellow Lantern scouts on their wider orbit patrol, and the idea was to either beat them off the territory or take them in, but one of them got a hit on Kyle and any concept of bringing them in was history. </p><p>"There you go, another fight you can tell your Earth sweetheart all about," John says, cutting the string on the stitches. </p><p>"Oh, ha-<em>ha</em>." Kyle sits up a little in the gurney, hand hovering over his injured side. "I don't have an Earth sweetheart." </p><p>"Mhmm," John says, unconvinced. "Who is he again? One of Batman's kids, right?" </p><p>"He's hardly a kid," Kyle murmurs. </p><p>"Now, is he the resurrected one or the smart one?" John jokes, shit-eating grin and all. Well, half-joke, because John does admittedly spend more time up here than Kyle, and it's easy to lose track of Earth when you're away for so long. Kyle is a little more grounded, in that regard, always tethered to home. </p><p>"He's the resurrected one, and shut up," Kyle grumbles, trying to swipe the painkiller bottle from John. His ring sits in a charging station in the corner. They could use it to help heal, but they've found that treating Earth wounds works best if they rely on the usual methods first - so, stitches and antiseptic. And painkillers that are starting to wear off. </p><p>"Hey, I'm the medic here," John says, holding the bottle out of his reach. "You're only here for another couple of weeks, but this should heal by then if you use your ring to help it, so I'll give you enough of these for that." </p><p>He counts out pills and puts them in an empty bottle to hand to Kyle before handing him one for now - Kyle swallows it greedily, laying back against the gurney and sighing at the change in position. </p><p>"Hey, I just don't want to have to explain this to Clark when I get back to the Watchtower," Kyle jokes. </p><p>"Oh yeah, the Watchtower," John says, sounds like he knows something Kyle doesn't. "I suppose Red Hood will be up there in two weeks and a day?" </p><p>"Stop reading my schedule." </p><p>"I thought it was odd that you volunteered to stay," John continues, as if Kyle hadn't spoken. "Why not go down now, like you were supposed to? You could see him on Earth." </p><p>"It's complicated," Kyle mutters, frowns a little, closes his eyes. <em>Complicated</em>. Ha. </p><p>He doesn't know how to explain that it's different with Jason, that it's a tenuous, fragile give and take, that Kyle's sticking to the invitation so he doesn't disrupt that. It would feel wrong to just surprise Jason this time, not when he's given him such a clear date and time and <em>offer</em>. </p><p>Part of Kyle is curious of what he would find if he went down now. Wonders if he'd find Jason at that club again, wonders if Jason's finding others there right now - or maybe later, he doesn't remember what time it is in Gotham right now, barely knows what time it is on <em>Oa</em>, past all his unconscious spells before they got back here. </p><p>"Last time I asked you, you said it was nothing," John says, too smart for his own good. "Now it's <em>complicated</em>?" </p><p>"Yes, it is."</p><p>John gently touches his wrist. "Kyle. Is it complicated, or are you just making it complicated?" </p><p>Kyle genuinely doesn't know how to answer that. </p><p>"Am I cleared to sleep?" He asks instead, makes it a joke. John withdraws his fingers. </p><p>"Yeah, you're good," he says. "I'll ask a nurse to keep an eye on you." </p><p>He hears John turn to leave, but pause. </p><p>"Don't overthink it, Kyle," he says. His footsteps fade. </p><p>"Easier said than done," Kyle replies miserably to an empty room. </p><p>-- </p><p>The Watchtower has a little residence area tucked into the left side of it - two hallways with impersonal rooms, more for staying over than living. There's communal kitchens at the end of each, and although the rooms aren't assigned, everyone tends to gravitate into the same one anyway. </p><p>Kyle hadn't seen many people after he landed on the Watchtower. His side is fully healed now, not even scarred - thanks to some mystery alien remedies that he doesn't want to think about too hard - and he had come through the airlock after the main business for the day was done, just people wandering about before going to bed. </p><p>The hallway is quiet when he steps out of his room. Grey, informal walls pass by him on his way to the kitchen at the opposite end. It feels a little like a walk of shame, only his footsteps thudding softly on metal plates. Silent. Eerie. It's late, Earth time, probably near midnight, so everyone's shuffled into their rooms by now, either staying up or sleeping. </p><p>Kyle fills up a glass of water and downs half of it in one go. After some debate, he starts walking back with it - technically against the rules, but Clark won't know anything if Kyle returns it in the morning. </p><p>On his way back, he pauses in front of Jason's door. There's nothing to indicate if he's in or not. Kyle hasn't seen him today, but he can count the humans he's seen today on one hand, so it doesn't mean much. </p><p>He knocks. Worth a try. Something shuffles inside. </p><p>"Who is it?" Jason calls. His voice washes over Kyle like a warm bath. </p><p>"Kyle." </p><p>"Come in." </p><p>Kyle opens the door - unlocked, to his surprise. Maybe on purpose. He steps in and closes it behind him. </p><p>"Hey," Jason says, twisting to see him over the back of the sofa. His phone lays beside him, his cushions are shifted, and he looks - <em>oh</em>. He looks familiar, but not in the soft-hearted way Kyle was expecting, no, he looks <em>familiar</em>. A sharp little thrill runs through Kyle. Jason being aroused is <em>familiar</em> to him - barely noticeable, if Kyle wasn't studying his face like a hawk, but it's plain as day to <em>him</em>. </p><p>"Hey," Kyle says right back, and doesn't say anything else. Jason huffs out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. </p><p>"Look, I was about to have some <em>alone time</em>, so make this quick, Kyle," he says, meaningful emphasis in the middle, giving Kyle a <em>look</em>. </p><p>Kyle's breath catches sharply, audibly in his throat. Jason's eyes drop down his body and back up. </p><p>"You want a hand with that?" Kyle asks. Jason swallows. </p><p>It's the first time they've ever, really, spoken it aloud so <em>plainly</em>. As a question hanging in mid-air with more than inches of space between them. It's different, somehow, when it's asked with mouth and not hands, when it's not asked between heavy panting and wandering hands. </p><p>"How about a mouth?" Jason asks, one eyebrow raised, and all the air punches out of Kyle in a soft <em>oh</em>. Oh, it's even more different when Jason has to answer with words and not with touch. Oh, it's <em>hot</em>. </p><p>"Whatever you want," Kyle says, and <em>means</em> it. </p><p>"Lock the door," Jason replies, and leans back against the sofa. </p><p>Kyle does exactly that, toes off his shoes, walks around the sofa, puts his forgotten glass on the coffee table, answers the hands tugging at his hips and straddles Jason. It's like paint melting back together, like wax reforming, train tracks fitting neatly together, hands on his body and in his hair, lips on his and down his neck, echoing each other and compounding like sound waves. Jason runs hot underneath him, shivers when Kyle kisses under his jaw, when he skates his palm down his shirt, when he rolls his hips just to feel Jason's fingers respond. </p><p>God, Kyle <em>missed</em> this. Missed <em>Jason</em>. Missed a lot of other things, too, a lot of things that Jason is currently reacquainting him with, like the firm hand in his hair and the flitting fingers at his waistband, like the press of familiar kisses and panted desire. Kyle goes to untie Jason's sweats, finds them already undone, shivers with the implication that Jason already <em>started</em>. </p><p>Jason gasps when Kyle shoves his hand underneath the fabric. Grunts when Kyle's fingertips find hotter, softer skin, pants openly against his mouth when Kyle <em>strokes</em>. </p><p>Oh, he definitely already started. Kyle can feel the touch of spit that Jason likes, can hear him suck in a shuddery breath and nod into the curve of Kyle's neck. Kyle buries a quiet sound in his hair, feels his own sweats tighten in the crotch that extra little bit - Jason runs a hand down to press palm to a different sort of curve, easily rolls his fingers over Kyle's balls in a dirty tease. <em>Fuck</em>. </p><p>Jason squeezes him, filthy. Kyle pants loudly, rubs circles, feels Jason shiver all over again, hips lifting the slightest amount. </p><p>To Kyle's surprise, Jason's other hand wiggles down into his own underwear, beside Kyle's. He gently takes Kyle's fingers and urges them up, out of the sweats - Kyle pulls back and watches, rapt, as Jason brings them up to his mouth. He fixes Kyle with a heated, almost <em>burning</em> look, and licks his middle and ring fingers. Kyle makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Jason chuckles. Squeezes Kyle's cock again over the fabric. </p><p>Jason guides his hand back down, his own with it, but when he presses Kyle's fingers to his cock he doesn't stay there. He shifts them a little lower - <em>showing</em> Kyle, he realises, mapping it out for him, and a horse couldn't kick this much air out of his lungs. He still isn't sure what Jason's doing, but - </p><p>Kyle's finger touches something a lot more yielding. He whines helplessly behind his teeth, can't break Jason's gaze. Jason is blushing uncharacteristically hard, plumes of red on his cheeks. </p><p>"Want your fingers," Jason murmurs, eyes searching Kyle like <em>Kyle's</em> the one who could conceivably be uncomfortable with this. <em>Fuck</em>. He'd do anything Jason fucking <em>asked</em>. </p><p>"<em>Jesus</em>," Kyle whispers, experimentally wiggles the tip of his finger. Slides it in another half-centimetre when Jason's hand leaves to give him room. "You sure?" </p><p>Jason nods. His nose brushes Kyle's with the movement. </p><p>"Just the two," he breathes, and it's Kyle's turn to nod. Jason shifts his hips. Kyle slides his finger in a little more, watches Jason's blush deepen. </p><p>Instead of saying all the things he shouldn't, Kyle kisses him - too hard, at first, but a hand cradles the back of his head and teeth appear on his lower lip and he <em>moans</em>, hot and wanting and <em>grateful</em> when Jason gets his palm back on him, still just over the fabric, just teasing, which is probably good because Kyle feels dizzy with how <em>hot</em> it is, at the little noises Jason makes when he sinks his finger in all the way, when he thumbs his cock - <em>oh</em>, Jason makes a sound that'll feature in Kyle's daydreams for<em>ever</em> at that, a quiet, stifled groan that reverberates through Kyle's teeth. </p><p>Kyle braces his other hand on Jason's shoulder while he grinds against his hand, sighing at the relief, at the <em>pressure</em>, good and heady and turning his blood to syrup in his veins, thick and heavy and <em>sweet</em>. <em>Fuck</em>, he could do this for hours, melt in Jason's hands while he thumbs at him, while he slides his finger out halfway and back in to a chorus of shivers and whispered noises, to the tune of fingers flexing in his hair, a hint of tug on the scalp. </p><p>Jason slips his hand into Kyle's underwear. Stars explode behind Kyle's closed eyelids, his syrupy, slow bloodstream kicked up to something like <em>lava</em>, hot and molten and liquid fire heating him up unbearably, all over, familiar callouses and a firm grip, twist around the head that makes him swallow the name on his tongue and pant out a curse instead, shudder visibly. Jason's hips lift up against his hand again, rubbing against his thumb, his finger - Kyle whines at the new slick he can feel when he pulls his finger out, not much but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. </p><p>Kyle presses his ring finger to Jason, a question. </p><p>"Aw, <em>fuck</em>," Jason moans, nods, answers. Shakes at the next brush of Kyle's thumb to his cock, bites back a sound as Kyle eases his finger in. </p><p>Kyle experiments as best he can with only half his brain to work with - the other half is drowning in the hand on his dick, in Jason's warm, sure hold, in the heated, biting kisses he layers down Kyle's jaw, up to his mouth, broken only by panting. Jason reacts best to the short, snappy thrusts, the ones where Kyle hardly pulls out half an inch before pushing back in, rocking more than thrusting. It keeps Kyle's thumb close at all times, rubbing in clumsy, uncoordinated circles. </p><p>Jason's cock twitches against the pad. Kyle's never been a patient man. </p><p>"Wanna blow you," he pants. "Wanna - " </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," Jason moans, <em>whines</em>. "Yeah, <em>yes</em>, please - " </p><p>Jason <em>moans</em> again when Kyle starts urging his sweats off, deep and full-throated. Kyle keeps his fingers buried in Jason as he carefully climbs down onto the floor, tugs the sweats and underwear over Jason's spread knees, lets them pool at his ankles, crowds in close, <em>familiar</em>, and he misses Jason's hand but the sight of this is almost better, <em>seeing</em> his cock twitch when Kyle rocks his fingers again, thumb held away, looking up the length of his body to see Jason blush all over again, watching, <em>touching</em>, hands threading their familiar way into Kyle's hair. </p><p>Kyle kisses Jason's thigh and curls his fingers up in a suspicion, shifts over a centimetre, rubs - </p><p>"<em>Shit</em>," Jason hisses, hips jolting. "I'm close, Kyle, I'm - " he breaks off into another sharp moan when Kyle rubs again, half to distract Jason and half to distract him<em>self</em> from the use of his name. A break in the silent agreement they seem to have reached, never saying names until it's too late to stop anything anyway, and it bolts through Kyle like lightning. </p><p>He doesn't waste any more time toying with Jason, licks up his cock and seals his lips around it and sucks in filthy time to the presses of his fingers, forgoing thrusting for this new sensation, new <em>reaction</em>, for Jason's stuttery groans above him, for the way he pulls on Kyle's hair with <em>both</em> hands, fucks his mouth in pleading, rolling thrusts. Kyle moans liberally, gives Jason a vibration to rub against while he pushes insistently inside him, slick joining the drip of spit from Kyle's chin. A shake settles in Jason's whole body, spurred on by Kyle's fingers and tongue, an abrupt noise pulled from his throat - </p><p>"Oh, <em>oh</em>, <em>fuck</em>, I'm - <em>ah</em> - I'm gonna come, Kyle, I'm gonna - fuck - <em>fuck</em> - " </p><p>Jason <em>keens</em>, and pants, and the shake turns into a <em>shudder</em>, continuous and strong and his thighs are quaking either side of Kyle - Kyle sucks harder, rubs faster, undulates the flat of his tongue - </p><p>Jason comes with a cry, holding Kyle's head in place while he shivers, <em>shakes</em>, head tipping back against the sofa, hips grinding desperately against Kyle in jerky stops and starts. Kyle drools on him, can't help it, shifts his fingers again, flushes hot all over at the <em>sound</em> of it, noticeably slicker than before, shudders between Jason's legs and presses a desperate hand against himself. Pushes through the ache in his tongue to keep licking at Jason's cock, feel it twitch, feel Jason <em>clench</em> around him, moans quietly when Jason <em>fists</em> his hair to keep him in place while shudders melt into shakes, melt into shivers, into trembles, a fine layer of sweat between Kyle's cheeks and Jason's skin, now. </p><p>Jason looks thoroughly undone above him, panting hard and still racked with the occasional shiver. Lifts his head to look down at Kyle, flushed down to the throat, muffles another small whine behind his teeth when Kyle rocks his fingers again. Licks him. Sucks, and Jason judders. </p><p>Kyle slowly withdraws his fingers. They're wet, shining in the light of Jason's room. Kyle's breath trips on the exhale. </p><p>"Fuck, that was good," Jason pants, combs a hand through Kyle's hair. Kyle licks a stripe up his cock and leaves it with a kiss. Doesn't get much further, drops his head on Jason's thigh with a huff and grinds forward into his hand - </p><p>"Oh no you don't," Jason says, and slides his hands down to Kyle's shoulders to urge him up on the sofa - instead of on his lap, Jason encourages him onto the sofa beside him, pushes him down to lay on it, one foot on the floor, head on the armrest, and climbs over him, dips down for a dizzying kiss that makes Kyle whimper with want, hands clutching at anything he can grab, at Jason's shirt, at his arms, <em>anything</em> that'll let him fuck up against him. </p><p>Jason kisses him with a laugh, buries it behind Kyle's teeth and leaves it there as he crawls down Kyle's body, smooth like his sweats aren't still around his fucking ankles, tugs Kyle's own sweats and underwear down and wraps a hand around his cock to make it level with his mouth. Kyle swears foully and loudly. Slides a hand into Jason's hair, pushes it out of his eyes, stupidly handsomely green and <em>twinkling</em> with mischief. </p><p>Then Jason takes Kyle's come-slick hand and drags the wet fingers up his cock, follows it with his tongue, doesn't break eye contact, filthy, <em>obscene</em>. Kyle moans like he's been punched in the chest. Pleads afterwards, in murmurs, in <em>please, please, Jason, please</em> and shudders at the answer. </p><p>Jason looks <em>good</em> down there, fuck, sinking down steady and wet and pulling up to lick around the head like Kyle's a lollipop, sucks with neat swallows, closes his eyes and <em>moans</em>, uses his spit to slick up the lower half - Kyle whimpers quietly, softly, curls his fingers in Jason's hair but doesn't guide him, <em>can't</em>, can only follow as Jason bobs on him, cuts straight to the chase, lips tight and tongue firm, <em>fuck</em>, no room for Kyle to move, just to lay there and <em>take</em> it, trembling down to his bones with the sensation, with the <em>sight</em>, already an afterimage on his eyelids when he briefly closes them. </p><p>Fingers shove up his shirt, dig into his hip; Jason pops off to pant, kisses messy up Kyle's abdomen while stroking him, murmuring incoherent nonsense against Kyle's skin, the sound rumbling through Kyle and ratcheting up his nerves by a steep notch, already haywire and frenzied from the build-up, already desperate, <em>frantic</em>, driven needy like Jason always makes him. Kisses back down and sinks down on Kyle like it's nothing, <em>groans</em>, follows Kyle's hips when they buck up involuntarily at the vibration, a helpless and pleading moan tumbling from his lips. Can't <em>stop</em> rocking up, short little things that Jason moves easily with, that shove him just a little further in - Kyle bumps the back of Jason's throat and Jason just hums, opens his eyes to look up at him, and the tingling heat dripping down his spine suddenly tightens and springcoils, barely a chance to babble - </p><p>"Jason, <em>Jason</em>," Kyle manages, and tries to pull his head off, but Jason doesn't move, and Kyle comes a half-second later, straight over his tongue, moaning through his teeth and shutting his eyes against the force of it. </p><p>When he opens them again, Jason's employing slow, thorough tongue tactics, rising up to suck only on the head and swiping his tongue over Kyle's slit to catch any more. His hand strokes lazily underneath, wringing out all the hazy, shuddery aftershocks. Kyle coughs out another, weaker moan and thumps his head back on the armrest to watch the ceiling. It swims above him. He blinks, and it stills once more. Jason takes his time cleaning him up, pops off to smooth it over with his hand, but it's only a handful of moments before Kyle has to pull him off, already oversensitive at the head. </p><p>Jason politely pulls his clothes up and tucks him in. Kyle can barely get his brain in gear to sit up. Turns out he doesn't need to, when Jason tugs his own sweat back up and settles on his elbows above Kyle, dips his head so his lips hover above his, barely touching. </p><p>Kyle smooths a hand down his back and kisses him. Open-mouthed, but not sloppy, just <em>nice</em>, kissing the taste out of Jason's mouth until all he <em>can </em>taste is Jason. Jason lowers himself to press them together, chest to hip, and makes a small, satisfied noise in the back of his throat. Kyle echoes the sentiment. Jason moves to pepper kisses down his neck, slow, indulgent, no teeth. </p><p>"How was Oa?" He asks, murmurs. Kyle huffs out a laugh. </p><p>"Routine," he replies, equally murmured. </p><p>"Glad to see you back in one piece." Pressed into his skin with a kiss. </p><p>Kyle realises, belatedly, that this is the first time they've been in such close proximity with all of the lights on. He opens his eyes to watch Jason's hair fall through his combing fingers, to study the curve of his spine, watch his shirt cling and fall away with his slight movements. </p><p>"For you," Kyle says. Jason raises his head to look at him. Eternity passes in the seconds between them. Jason's eyes are hauntingly, beautifully green, and there's an array of emotions in the faint furrow of his eyebrows. Kyle feels like he's just nosedived at Mach 1 - fallen too far, too fast, and dizzy from it. </p><p>Kyle closes his eyes and kisses him before either of them can say anything more. It's too much, under the light, too much, sober, too much, this close. He pretends to imagine the much softer, much sweeter kiss Jason presses to his lips. Pretends to imagine how he returns it in kind. </p><p>Kyle's lips tingle numbly when they eventually part. Jason helps him sit up on the sofa. He takes a drink from his long-forgotten water. Jason runs a hand through his hair. </p><p>"Glad I didn't ruin a shirt for once," Kyle says, smoothing a hand down the front of it. "I still gotta walk back to my room."  </p><p>Jason laughs, bright and bubbly. </p><p>"I'll have to fix that next time," he says, looking Kyle up and down. "Can't ruin my reputation." </p><p><em>Next time</em>. Kyle breathes in the words and lets them warm him all over. </p><p>"When do you go back down?" He asks. </p><p>"Tomorrow morning." </p><p>"Ha, see you there." </p><p>Jason nudges his ankle. "Looking forward to it." </p><p>-- </p><p>It's another predictable, lonely night when Jason has the manor to himself. The rest are out somewhere - Alfred with a friend, Bruce and Damian on patrol, Dick on another sneaky date, and Tim on a "study night". </p><p>Which just leaves Jason staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom at midnight. No patrol, no date. He's exhausted his usual routine of movie and video game, and has gone through the five stages of grief at the latest level he's stuck on, so he's leaving it for when Dick or Tim can be his player two. </p><p>And although the menu music is still playing softly through his room, it's not the game he's thinking about. </p><p>No, that would be Kyle. As usual, these days. </p><p>Kyle, and their midnight, clandestine meetings. On instinct, Jason rolls his head to look out of the window across the room, flopped sideways on his bed. His toes barely touch the carpet. Cloud cover obscures the stars. Somewhere out there, the Watchtower circles, but for all Jason knows, it's above Australia right now. Oa would be in the direction of Jason's bathroom, right angle to the window. </p><p>He can't stop thinking about Kyle. <em>Can't</em>. It's almost a Pavlovian response, at this point, to see a clock go past midnight and <em>not</em> feel the vague stirrings of horny at the base of his spine. It was near murderous during the last month Kyle had to go, but they've been making up for it in the following weeks, barely getting to Kyle's bedroom on most occasions. Jason still hasn't stayed over again. </p><p>Jason trails fingers down the front of his shirt. Lazily. Slowly. Like Kyle would if he was teasing. He pulls up the hem to trace over bare skin instead, closes his eyes. </p><p>Well, he <em>is</em> home alone. No interruptions. </p><p>With a soft sigh, Jason runs a thumb down his abdomen, trying to trace an invisible path Kyle followed mere days ago. His other hand stays where it is on the bedsheets, palm tingling with the memory of Kyle underneath it, of the push and pull of his muscles, of his thighs when Jason rocks into him, the flex of his back when he lets Jason push him into the mattress - </p><p>Jason catches himself with a sharp inhale. Too much, too fast, and he kind of wants to make this last. He licks his thumb and drags it down the V of his hip, wet, deliberate, like a tongue. It doesn't feel the same, not nearly, but it's close enough that Jason can imagine it as he nudges his thumb under the waistband of his jeans and brushes across the line to his other hip. Arousal tingles pleasantly between his legs, drips down in hot pulses with each touch of his fingers to sensitive skin. He scrapes his nails over his happy trail. Not enough. Not like Kyle would do it. </p><p>The jeans unbutton easily, the zipper glides down like oil. Jason doesn't go lower yet, though, wets his thumb once more to run it under his waistband again, inching down, closer to where heat pounds. He imagines Kyle above him, crawling down, pressing neat kisses to his abdomen and hips and thighs and happy trail, hands eager on his thighs, pulling himself closer - </p><p>Jason's other hand fists at the sense memory of grabbing Kyle's hair. Of just resting in it, letting Kyle do what he wants, watching Kyle's shoulders and back flex when his own hips roll down against the mattress or into thin air or into his own hand, setting Jason aflame like a match to paper. Thinks of all the pretty noises Kyle makes when Jason gets his hand on him, soft, panted little groans into the angle of his hip, the quietest whimper against his thigh when he gets worked up and needy - </p><p>Jason exhales in a punch when he finally touches his cock, his wrist pinned to his hips by the elastic of his waistband. Too dry, but he's not worried about that right now, running his index finger up the length and nudging over the tip to make himself shivery. Visions of Kyle play on the backs of his eyelids, his weight, his touch, his voice, his lips. Jason takes his hand out to lick his fingers and returns them, tenses up at the initial chill. He strokes slowly, languidly, just his thumb and index, pulls a little to feel heat pool sticky in his abdomen, tingle through his legs. </p><p>In his mind, Kyle's kissing him in that sure, neat way of his while he jacks him off, slow and deliberate and <em>hot</em>, fingers not nearly hard enough, not nearly fast enough, one of those nights where he wants to string Jason out a bit and fit him back together, send him reeling. Kyle's impatient, but <em>god</em> he's stubborn when he wants to be, intent on pressing Jason into the nearest surface and touching him, tonguing him, firm fingers and thorough mouth. As if Jason can last long when <em>Kyle's</em> touching him. </p><p>Jason switches to circles when his breathing kicks up into panting, familiar and shivery - but it's not quite right. It's how he usually does it, narrow radius and hard, grindy pressure, but it's not quite pressing the same buttons it normally does. </p><p>It's not how <em>Kyle</em> does it. Jason shivers at the fantasy and changes track. He widens his radius a little, focuses the grinding instead, goes easier over the head, and puffs out a breath at the difference. Thinks of Kyle between his legs. </p><p>There's this neat little trick Kyle does with his tongue where he points it and drags it up the underside of Jason's cock - Jason licks his thumb to replicate it, and finds with a bitten-back noise that it elicits the same response. <em>God</em>. </p><p>His hand a little faster now, a little harder, Jason fantasises more urgently, more <em>freely</em>, imagines Kyle kneeling between his thighs and kissing up his cock, licking his way back down, moaning behind his teeth when Jason tugs on his hair and sinking down in smooth, practised movement to suck on him. It sends heat rippling up Jason's spine, makes him gasp into the air of his empty bedroom, eyebrows furrowed, hips lifting more regularly into his touch, now. </p><p>Fantasy-Kyle growls against him, digs his fingers into Jason's thighs, glances up at him, reaches down to jack himself off and <em>that's</em> what kicks Jason in the chest like a military boot, pushing all the air out of him and urging another quiet, stifled, <em>embarrassing</em> noise. Kyle gets sloppy, in his imagination, lets spit drip down his lips and chin, pulls off to spit deliberately on him. Jason wants to moan at the idea. Kyle's so incredibly, <em>ridiculously</em> hot when he's doing filthy shit, flushed to the apple of his cheeks and eyes fluttering whenever Jason pushes his head down harder, fucks up into his mouth, can't help gasping his name and shaking - </p><p>Real-Jason pants loudly and comes with a shudder, thighs clenching up and shoulders curling up instinctively only to hit the bed again when another shiver rocks through him, opposite curve, away from his hand and then back. He presses up the underside like Kyle does and grunts through gritted teeth, shudders. Grinds his fingers down until it hurts, until his rocking slows. </p><p>The menu music filters back into his consciousness note by teasing note. Jason relaxes against the bed with a heavy sigh, like a puppet with all its strings cut. Withdraws his hand and wipes the drying spit carelessly onto his underwear. Doesn't bother to zip up his jeans again. Imagines Kyle's hands on him, always softer after he's come, sliding up Jason's neck and over his jaw to kiss him slow and sure and deep and make his knees weak. </p><p>Jason opens his eyes to a disappointing stretch of dark ceiling. It's bad enough he's fantasising about Kyle normally, but if he starts <em>daydreaming</em> about him... </p><p>It's useless to deny it. Jason already knows he's fucked. </p><p>So he closes his eyes and tunes out the menu music and thinks of Kyle kissing him under the stars for a few minutes more. </p><p>-- </p><p>The Blue Stripe Arcade is something of a tradition in the Wayne household, started by Bruce with Dick and passed on down each brother in turn. </p><p>Maybe tradition's not the right word. More like <em>staple</em>. It's an easy, fun, guaranteed good time, so when Jason suggests it to Tim on a lazy Sunday morning, Tim readily agrees. They take a bus there, despite Bruce's garage, and walk the last couple blocks to the building. Tim can't stop checking his phone. Jason can't stop teasing him about it. </p><p>"You could invite him," he teases, nudging Tim's side. </p><p>"And let you interrogate him? No thanks," Tim answers dryly, pushing a twenty into the quarter machine. Jason leans an elbow on the top of it. </p><p>"Well, it's either me or Dick," Jason says with a wide grin. "You've only got two big brothers." </p><p>"I'll have to speak with Bruce about that." </p><p>"Hey, I'm the <em>nice</em> one," Jason tells him. Tim rolls his eyes and hands Jason a fistful of quarters. Jason relents and turns to gesture to the arcade machines. </p><p>"Okay, then, choose your fighter," he says. Tim immediately heads to Tetris Fight. </p><p>Tim's in a strangely good mood today - not that he isn't usually, but today he seems almost...<em>delighted</em>. Quietly giddy, if Jason had to pull out a thesaurus. He doesn't even rip Jason to pieces when Jason fails the crane game for the fourth time in a row. And he still laughs at Jason's worn out jokes - a hazard of the big brother job, running out of quips - when usually he'd grace them with a chuckle and a smile. </p><p>Hey, Jason'll take it. It's nice seeing Tim enjoy himself. </p><p>They make their way in a circuit around the arcade, picking out games as they go, weaving around other groups to make their way to the unloved racing games. Jason beats Tim into <em>paste</em> at the Terminator Salvation shooter - best in the family, and he's not losing that title anytime soon - but Tim wrestles his prowess back with a narrow win at DDR. Both of them converge on Cheese Viking at the back wall to check out the top scores - Nibor V is still the highest. </p><p>Giggling, Jason and Tim agree on and start their mission, taking turns running through fights named as D, then A, then M, and so on, trying to fill spots 2 - 7 with D-A-M-I-A-N, as a little surprise for whenever Damian drops by here next. They fuck it up a bit when Tim accidentally gets a combo score as 'I' and climbs way too high, and Jason dies as 'N' before he can claw past spot number nine, so really the leaderboard ends up looking like Nibor V, D, A, I, M, A, bboy98, MisterE, N. It's close enough. Tim takes a photo on his phone and sends it to Jason as silent proof. </p><p>After a couple failed, alternating Pac-Man runs, they take a break to count their tickets and quarters. Fifty of the former, and two of the latter. Tim sets his phone down on the bench to fold up his tickets while Jason flips a coin over his knuckles, looking out to idly browse the empty games near them. </p><p>"I can almost get a pencil," Tim says, drawing Jason's attention back to him. His phone vibrates softly and Jason automatically glances down. He catches a glimpse of the background and almost chokes on his own spit at the image there. </p><p>"When did <em>that</em> happen?" He asks, pointing at the background photo of Conner. Tim grows red in the cheeks. </p><p>"Last night," he admits, trying and failing to stifle a smile, and snakes a hand across to take his phone back. <em>That</em> explains why he's so giddy today. It's downright <em>cute</em>. </p><p>"I was starting to think I'd never see the day," Jason says with a grin, lightly punching Tim's shoulder. "Congrats, Robert." </p><p>Tim plucks the string of tickets from Jason's hand to fold them up as well. "Thanks." He laughs a little. "I'm surprised it happened before you and Kyle." </p><p>"Wow, can't even give me a chance to be happy for you," Jason sighs, playfully annoyed. Tim snickers. Compares their tickets stacks. </p><p>"Mm, you're more like an eraser," he judges, handing Jason's tickets back. </p><p>"Good. Maybe I can use it to wipe that smirk off your face." Jason drops one quarter back in Tim's palm. "Can I bribe you to not talk about Kyle?" </p><p>Tim accepts the quarter. "Briefly." </p><p>"I'll take it." </p><p>They pick out an easy racing game to do together - one that will hopefully get them enough tickets to push them up to a luxurious <em>two</em> pencils. Jason finishes third in the final race, Tim in fourth, and the machine spits out another few tickets that Tim scoops up to add to their piles. He types something on their phone as they wait in the prizes queue, less shy around Jason now that Jason knows. </p><p>"So when can I meet him?" Jason asks. Tim pockets his phone and laughs. </p><p>"You already know him," he replies. </p><p>"Yeah, but when can I meet him as your <em>boyfriend</em>?" He teases, mostly to embarrass Tim. It works. Tim punches his arm. </p><p>"Never," he says. Jason pouts playfully. </p><p>"Okay, fine, but not until I've told the others," Tim sighs, grinning. He glances up at Jason. "Can you...keep this between us for now?" </p><p>"Of course," Jason replies with a conspiratorial wink. </p><p>"Awesome. Now, when can <em>I</em> meet <em>Kyle</em>?" </p><p>It's purely to embarrass Jason, and it works. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. Tim nudges his arm. </p><p>"Jason, I'm kidding," he tells him. The queue moves up a step. </p><p>"I know," Jason sighs. Then he thinks of something, cogs turning in his head to fit the puzzle together. "Hey, if Dick wins fifty if we date, what did you bet on?" </p><p>"Twenty that you wouldn't," Tim says simply. "To be fair, neither of you had made a move when we made the bet." </p><p>"When you - how long has this been going on?" </p><p>Tim is saved from answering by the desk attendant calling them up to claim their prizes. They decide to pool their tickets for an inflatable beach ball that Titus will inevitably puncture. </p><p>"You never answered me," Jason says as they step out into the sunshine. They stop to lean against the wall beside the front door. Just because he can, he ruffles Tim's hair. "You little shit." </p><p>Tim bats him away with a laugh and punches his arm again. "I have the right to remain silent," he insists, holding up his hands in mock surrender. </p><p>"Glad to know my entire family has betrayed me," Jason deadpans. "And I can't believe you bet against me!" </p><p>"Maybe I want to lose," Tim says, his smile softening to something sweeter, <em>understanding</em>. It makes him seem older than he is. Jason pauses. </p><p>"Last time I checked, Timothy Drake doesn't gamble to lose," he replies on autopilot. Tim shrugs and avoids his eyes. </p><p>"Well, I can't exactly change my bet," he says. Jason glances at the people passing them on the pavement. </p><p>"Tim, can I ask you something?" He asks. Tim adjusts his jacket and nods. </p><p>"Do you like Kyle?" Jason asks, and it feels stupid, really, asking his little brother for...what? <em>Approval</em>? Jason's never sought that out before. </p><p>But maybe it's because this time it's different. Maybe he's dancing around his <em>own</em> feelings for Kyle and trying to rely on people around him instead, even though his opinion is the only one that matters when it comes to shit like this. </p><p>God. <em>Feelings</em> for Kyle. </p><p>Sometimes, Jason hates his Bat-trained psychoanalysis skills. He can't shut them off even for this. </p><p>"Not like <em>you</em> do," Tim jokes, but holds up a hand to stop Jason interrupting him. "But yeah, he's cool." </p><p>"Cool." </p><p>"He has a magical space ring." </p><p>"Observant as always." </p><p>"If I tell you I like him will you ask him out?" Tim challenges. It's Jason's turn to avoid his eyes. </p><p>"Probably not," he admits. Tries to change the subject and nods at the diner across the road. "You wanna get something to eat?" </p><p>"You brought him up, you're not Bruce-ing your way out of this." </p><p>"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," Jason says breezily, and pushes off of the wall. "C'mon, I could go for pancakes." </p><p>"Jason." </p><p>"Tim." </p><p>Tim steps in front of him. Jason stops in his tracks. </p><p>"You're almost worse than Dick," Tim says. "But I'm only saying this once." </p><p>"I miss when you were, like, ten," Jason says. "It was much easier to ignore you then." Not that he did. But if a ten year old Tim was quizzing him about his love life, then he might just. It's a terrifying thought. </p><p>"I want to lose the stupid bet," Tim tells him, looks him in the eyes with that even, stern stare of his. When he's being <em>serious</em>. </p><p>Jason tries to step forward, but Tim stops him. Okay, so he wants an answer. </p><p>"Okay," he says. Then says something he didn't expect to ever voice. "But it's not my choice to make." </p><p>"I know." Tim cracks a smile and steps aside to let Jason pass, leading them to the edge of the pavement. "Try not to repeat the great syrup incident of 2017." </p><p>"Hey, look, you haven't lived until you've been lifetime banned from a diner," Jason replies, can't help smiling at Tim's laughter. Tim's attempts to cheer him up <em>always</em> work. </p><p>Jason waits for a couple cars to pass and checks both sides of the road, a hand automatically coming up to hold onto Tim's shoulder - a holdover from Tim's childhood, that Jason can't shake and his younger brothers have learnt to put up with whenever they cross a road with him. His eyes sweep left, then right - </p><p>And halt in the middle on the one thing he didn't expect to see today. </p><p>Kyle looks frozen as well, sat in a window booth of the diner, a plate of waffles on the table and Wally sitting across from him. </p><p>Jason's heart does traitorous flips in his chest. He sees Tim's head turn to him out of the corner of his eye, but not the expression he makes - no, Jason's too focused on <em>Kyle</em>. On the familiar lines of his face, of the curve of a budding smile. On the softer, sweeter sense memory of the late/night early morning kisses traded before one of them has to inevitably, indubitably, leave. His lips tingle on reflex. </p><p>He can't fight his smile, lifts his free hand in a tiny wave. Kyle waves back, an equally dumbstruck smile on his face. </p><p>Wally waves to them as well, whole arm in motion - a laugh bubbles out of Tim and echoes in Jason, but he can't tear his gaze from Kyle. </p><p>A car roars between them and Jason's forced to look away to step back from the pavement. He grabs Tim's shoulder again to get his attention. </p><p>"Come on, let's go somewhere else instead," he says, jerking his head down the pavement instead of across the road. "Comical Cones is open." </p><p>"I'll pretend that was subtle," Tim says, but falls in step with Jason as he starts walking along the pavement. </p><p>"All I did was <em>wave</em>," Jason protests. Just before they get to the crossing, though, he glances back at the diner windows. Kyle's still looking at him. </p><p>The pedestrian light beeps loudly, breaking him out of his reverie, and he pulls his gaze away to walk across the road with Tim, his heart still in fitful conniptions. </p><p>"All you did was look at him exactly how Bruce looks at Jim," Tim says. Jason scoffs. </p><p>"I definitely didn't," he says. "That's just completely fucking different." </p><p>"How?" Tim pins him with a knowing glance. </p><p>"Well, for one, they're - " </p><p>"In love?" Tim finishes bluntly. </p><p>Jason coughs, startled halfway through swallowing. The word sends sharp, panicky lightning bolts through him, like the swift silence that falls after an unexpected gunshot.</p><p>"What?" He wheezes. Tim shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. </p><p>"It was pretty obvious," he says, blasé. Jason almost swallows his tongue. </p><p>"It's just a wave," he protests weakly. </p><p>"Sure," he says, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'm sure Kyle waves to all the Lanterns like that." </p><p>Jason blinks at his hands. It's rhetorical, obviously, <em>duh</em>, but it makes him think. And if he thinks about it, <em>really </em>thinks about it, he hasn't ever seen Kyle greet someone the same way he greets Jason. Hasn't seen him flash anyone else that private, pleased smile. Hasn't seen his gaze linger on any <em>other</em> members that show up at the monthly League meetings. </p><p>And if Jason thinks about it hard enough to force the realisation, he's never his name spoken so fondly from anyone else's lips. </p><p>"Fuck," he says succinctly. Tim politely doesn't comment. </p><p>-- </p><p>"C'mon, what's keeping you?" Wally flicks his fingers and spins a penny on its side on the table, vibrating towards Kyle. When it eventually loses momentum and clinks onto a flat side, Wally just picks it up and spins it again. </p><p>"Nothing," Kyle says, drums his fingers against the plastic diner table and looks out at the window. </p><p>"Sure, nothing," Wally says. Spins the penny again. It would drive Kyle crazy if he wasn't so used to Wally's fidgeting. "Nothing is exactly the reason that you called me up for brunch and, so far, have just been sitting there moping around." </p><p>"I'm not <em>moping</em> around." </p><p>"Moody glare, pouty lip, slouched posture - yep, you're sulking. Honestly, Kyle, you're getting worse than Batman." </p><p>Kyle purses his lips and looks down at the spinning penny, almost a blur on the table. </p><p>"I'm sorry," he says. "I <em>did</em> want to just get food with you." </p><p>"Hey." Wally lays a hand on his wrist. Looks at him with earnest, heartfelt eyes. "Kyle, I'm not annoyed. You clearly want to talk, and I want to listen." </p><p>Kyle can't deny it. He's nothing but an open book, to Wally. </p><p>"It's just <em>hard</em>," he complains, rests his head in his hands. The waitress comes by with their drinks and drops them off. Wally thanks her politely. </p><p>"Why?" Wally asks, and Kyle groans. </p><p>"All right, fine, let me rephrase that," Wally says, twirling the straw in his milkshake. "How is it <em>hard</em>?" </p><p>Kyle doesn't have an answer, really. Not one that Wally would accept. </p><p>"He deserves better," he mutters. Looks out at the street again. "I don't know. I don't even know if he <em>likes</em> me." </p><p>Wally raises his eyebrows. </p><p>"Kyle, you don't sleep with a guy every week for five months if you don't <em>like</em> him," he says. Kyle sputters indignantly. Wally holds up a hand before he can even try to speak. </p><p>"Don't bother," he says. "It's written all over your face." He smirks. "And your neck." </p><p>"Hey - " </p><p>"You should consider going a shade lighter," Wally adds meaningfully. Kyle rubs self-consciously at the foundation on his throat. </p><p>"Shut up," he murmurs. </p><p>"Nah. He likes you, Kyle, c'mon. Do you <em>really</em> think he's sleeping around?" </p><p>"He might be. It <em>did</em> start in a nightclub, and he wasn't exactly there for the <em>drinks</em>." </p><p>"You're too paranoid," Wally declares. "This is John's fault." </p><p>"I'm just playing it <em>safe</em> - " </p><p>"You <em>don't</em>, and I repeat, do <em>not</em> sleep with the same guy <em>every</em> <em>week</em> for <em>five months</em> if you don't have <em>some</em> sort of attachment to him." </p><p>The waitress swings by again with their orders, and again leaves to a chorus of <em>thank you</em>s. Kyle picks at his waffles while Wally devours his. He needs to inhale an insane amount of calories to be able to run that fast. </p><p>"But what if he doesn't want anything more?" Kyle asks miserably. Glances out of the window again. </p><p>As if on cue, a familiar pair walk out of the arcade across the street. Jason playfully ruffles Tim's hair and easily dodges the lazy punch Tim aims at his abdomen. They stop to lean against the wall outside, talking with smiles on their faces. </p><p>"You're telling me that man doesn't like you?" Wally asks. "Look at him, Kyle." </p><p>That's the issue - Kyle <em>can't</em> stop looking at him. Jason's perfect in every way - he's handsome, he's hot, he's...god, he's <em>nice</em>. Kind. Thoughtful. Loyal. He's everything Kyle could ever want in a man. </p><p>He has to tear his eyes away from watching Jason laugh with Tim. It's too <em>cute</em>, Jason acting as big brother.  </p><p>"Yeah, and he should be with someone who lives on <em>Earth</em>. Full-time." </p><p>"Kyle, you are - and I say this with absolute sincerity - an <em>idiot</em>." </p><p>"I'm <em>right</em>," Kyle insists. "Okay, so, what, I ask him out and <em>then</em> what? I go to Oa for months at a time? It won't work out." </p><p>Wally sighs. "Kyle, I don't think you realise that it's not about being gone. It's about what you do when you <em>are</em> here." </p><p>"Thanks, Mr. Crystal-Clear." </p><p>"You're always making time for people," Wally says. "You always make time for your friends. You always make time for me. For Donna. For Roy. Hell, even for Garth, and his schedule is almost worse than <em>yours</em>. You're flying all across the galaxy and you somehow have time for <em>everyone</em>." </p><p>Kyle looks at his food. Wally leans an elbow on the table. </p><p>"I think you need to cut out some time for <em>yourself</em>," he finishes gently. "Whoever it's with." </p><p>Kyle glances out the window. Jason and Tim have pushed off from the wall, clearly readying to walk towards the diner - but Jason looks up then, checking both ways across the road and placing a hand on Tim's shoulder to guide him forward to the edge of the pavement, and his eyes sweep back across the road and meet Kyle's. </p><p>Kyle forgets how to breathe, in that moment. </p><p>Jason gives him a small, sheepish smile and an equally small wave. Tim cocks an eyebrow beside him. Kyle waves back. </p><p>Unhelpfully, Wally waves, too, much bigger. Across the street, Jason and Tim laugh and wave to him as well, but Jason's eyes stay glued to Kyle's. </p><p>A car passes between them and breaks the moment. Jason grabs Tim's shoulder again and says something to him, and they start walking off down the pavement - Jason glances back at Kyle once more, but doesn't do anything else, and when he turns back to walking, Kyle's cheeks are tangibly hotter. </p><p>"Told you," Wally says, cutting off another triangle of pancake stack. "He's just as smitten as you are." </p><p>"I'm not <em>smitten</em>." </p><p>"I just watched that whole thing," Wally reminds him. "And I know what you look like when you're smitten, Kyle." </p><p>"I'm not <em>smitten</em>." </p><p>"In love, then." </p><p>Kyle splutters. "I'm not <em>in love</em>, either!" </p><p>"Oh yeah? Go on, what was your first thought when you saw him?" </p><p>Kyle thinks back to the initial moment, past the shock, past the wave of surprise - </p><p><em>Jason's perfect in every way</em>.</p><p>"Oh, <em>shit</em>," Kyle says, sinking his head into his hands once more. Wally leans over to sympathetically pat his shoulder. </p><p>-- </p><p>Kyle's building looks different in daylight. Lighter grey walls, a paler blue carpet, brass number plates. His front door is a darker wood when not splashed in moonlight. It looks fancier, somehow, the stretch of roof not so cold and dim when Jason's crossing it now. He usually grapples over from a nearby skyscraper, pulls himself over the rooftops, skips the metal stairs that lead up to Kyle's penthouse affair. </p><p>Today, though, he went up the stairs. Through the building, out to the enclosed alley, and up the outdoor metal ones. </p><p>It feels weird, coming here during the day. Jason almost feels as if he should have brought <em>flowers</em> or something, box of chocolates, a card. </p><p>He's not quite sure what card would cover this though. <em>Happy Birthday, I Want To Be More Than Fuck Buddies!; I Think I Love You, Get Well Soon</em>. </p><p>Jason scoffs to himself at the ideas. Glances out at the city, at all its metal and glass glory. It's rush hour on the avenue again. It's a hell of a view. And it's the last time Jason might ever see it from this precise angle if this goes badly. </p><p>Jason steels himself before knocking on the door. There's no answer for a long moment. </p><p>Maybe he got it wrong. Kyle never has a solid return date, after all, and maybe something has kept him up in space for far longer than two months - </p><p>The door opens. Kyle look surprised to see him - or maybe just to see him in daytime. Although that's waning, swiftly fading into evening. Jason's ducked out of two patrols to make it here tonight. </p><p>"Hey," Kyle says, smiles at him, dizzyingly, dazzlingly bright, like a muzzle flash. </p><p>"Hey," Jason replies, can't help returning the smile despite the nerves fluttering around his ribs, winding them tighter with each breath. </p><p>"Come in," Kyle offers, and steps back to let him in. Jason's fingers twitch with the urge to debase him, to hook in his belt loops and pull him closer - </p><p>Oh, Jason's a weak, weak man. Trades one look with Kyle and ends up kissing him, ends up with hands on his hips and his back against the wall of Kyle's entry hall, a gasp caught in his throat and instinctive arousal creeping up his spine, fingers pressing into Kyle's sides, into his back, urging him in. </p><p>With effort, Jason breaks the kiss. </p><p>"Wait, wait," he pants, and Kyle does. But Jason's fingers in his belt loops prevent him from stepping back. </p><p>"I didn't come here for that," Jason says, thumps his head against the wall. Kyle runs his hands down Jason's arms to rest over his hands. Soft. Gentle. Exactly what Jason doesn't need when he's trying to pour his heart out. </p><p>"I came to - I wanted - " he struggles with the words, sighs heavily. </p><p>Kyle waits patiently for him, eyebrows furrowing, a question forming on his lips that he doesn't voice. </p><p>Maybe Jason shouldn't do this. It would be easy to melt back into Kyle, to pretend he had nothing to say, to drown in his touch and his kisses and end up where he always does, staring at the ceiling and wishing on falling stars. </p><p>He thinks of Dick's words. <em>Happy</em>. </p><p>"I came to tell you that I <em>like</em> you," Jason manages through a throat as thick as cement, closes his eyes. Gestures between them. "I want to - I want this, <em>us</em>." </p><p>Kyle stays silent for a long, heartbreaking second. </p><p>"Jason," he says, quietly, <em>sadly</em>, and Jason doesn't think he can take the rejection. He lets go of Kyle, shakes his head. Ignores the way Kyle's fingers try to clutch at his. </p><p>"Don't," he whispers. Fuck. Can barely swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. "Just - I'll leave." </p><p>Kyle grabs his wrist. Not imprisoning, not urging, just...holding. </p><p>"I <em>want</em> to," he says, pins Jason in place with just the ferocity in his tone. Jason opens his eyes to meet Kyle's. That same open, touching fondness that he seemingly reserves just for Jason, just for their private moments, a look that tugs at Jason's heartstrings and if Kyle <em>wants</em> it then why can't Jason <em>have</em> it? </p><p>"I really, really want to," Kyle continues, and swallows audibly. "But I <em>can't</em>." </p><p>Jason struggles to keep his mouth a line, but the corners want to downturn. He didn't want to be so fragile for this, but god, two months was <em>long</em>, and all Jason could think of was <em>Kyle</em>, think of seeing him again, of kissing him. He's rehearsed this moment so many goddamn times in the small hours of the morning and it's always ended the same way, in his stupid, hopeful head, always ended with Kyle brushing a thumb over his jaw and kissing him slow and murmuring sweet somethings into his mouth. </p><p>"Why?" It comes out as strong as he can manage. He's ready for the worst answer, for the worst outcome, for the <em>I've met someone else</em> or <em>this was a mistake</em> - </p><p>"I don't - I don't want to hurt you." </p><p>Jason feels like he's skipped a grade. Confused and falling behind. Hurt <em>him</em>? Kyle's not the one with a past, present, and future mired in broken leads and stunning misdirection and enemies that live on the same planet he calls Earth. That live too close, now, too close to this building, this penthouse, that wouldn't hesitate to hurt Kyle just to get to Jason. </p><p>Kyle flies <em>into</em> danger. Jason's danger follows him home every night. </p><p>"You won't," he tells him, wants to spill everything else, wants to babble, <em>explain</em>, explain that Jason's the heartbreaker here, not Kyle, never Kyle, because how <em>could</em> Kyle, when he's so patient and thoughtful and <em>attentive </em>and would give Jason the time of day on <em>Mars</em> if he asked. </p><p>"You <em>couldn't</em>," he says instead, dumbstruck and dumbfound. "Kyle - " </p><p>"I only live here half the time," Kyle interrupts. Licks his lips. "I'm...I work in <em>space</em>, Jason." </p><p>It's almost funny, how the nerves radiating off of Kyle in palpable waves match right up to Jason's heartbeat. </p><p>"And I almost get murdered five nights of the week," Jason says, rougher than he wants to, grittier. "We'll make it work. We have technology." </p><p>"And I never know when I'm coming <em>back</em>," Kyle insists. "I don't want to keep you waiting." </p><p>Jason lifts a hand to place it flat on Kyle's chest. Feels his heartbeat skip time under his fingertips. Jackrabbiting just like his own. </p><p>"Neither do I," he says. "Kyle, I'm <em>Red Hood</em>." He sucks in a dry, rattling breath. </p><p>"But - " </p><p>"Listen to me," Jason says, asks, pleads. Kyle brings his hand up to hold Jason's arm, squeezing gently around the fabric of his jacket. "I don't - I'm not - I get too <em>involved</em>, Kyle. In the cases I work on." </p><p>"I like that about you," Kyle says, softly, oh-so-softly, steady eyes meeting Jason's eyes. "I like that you care." </p><p>"I wasn't done," Jason points out, catches the half-smile that curls the side of Kyle's mouth. He doesn't finish his thought. </p><p>"Can I kiss you?" He asks instead, and Kyle's heart kicks up under his palm. <em>Oh</em>. So that's what it feels like, then. <em>Love</em>. </p><p>Kyle kisses softer in the daylight. Jason counts seconds in heartbeats. </p><p>"I like a lot of things about you, Jason," Kyle murmurs afterwards, barely pulls away. "But - you deserve better." </p><p>"I think that's up to me to decide," Jason says, twists his wrist to hold Kyle's hand instead. "And I've decided on <em>you</em>." </p><p>Kyle's exhale puffs out over his mouth. His brow knits. Something adjacent to regret flickers over his face. </p><p>He takes the hand on his chest and moves it down to his left side, curls Jason's fingers around his ribs. Jason furrows his eyebrows in question. </p><p>"I got injured here a few months ago," Kyle says. "Before - the Watchtower. Got hit by a yellow beam." </p><p>Jason frowns. He doesn't remember any injuries. Certainly not anything like an <em>energy beam</em>. </p><p>"And no one down here ever knew," Kyle continues. "Jason, that's - space is <em>dangerous</em>, it's not - I might not - " </p><p>Jason interrupts him before he can finish the rest of that morbid sentence by tugging Kyle's hand to rest on his shoulder. </p><p>"It wasn't bruised," he says. Watches Kyle remember and realise. "It was dislocated. I popped it back in before coming over." </p><p>"Jesus," Kyle breathes. </p><p>"So you're not the only one that gets injured and doesn't tell anyone," Jason adds. Squeezes Kyle's ribs. </p><p>"Why didn't you mention it?" Kyle asks. Glances at Jason's shoulder and back. </p><p>"I didn't want you to worry," Jason replies. Quirks his lips up. "Why didn't you?" </p><p>"I didn't - " Kyle cuts himself off with a chuckle. "I didn't want you to worry." </p><p>"How about next time, you let me worry?" Jason breathes. "Tell me what happens up there." </p><p>Kyle looks into his eyes like he's searching for something, like there's hidden depths. But Jason has never been anything less than an open book to Kyle, complete with a creased spine and dog-eared pages. Well-loved by the reader.</p><p>"Only if you do the same," he replies, gives Jason this handsome little smile that makes Jason laugh quietly. </p><p>"Okay," he agrees. "Okay, I will." </p><p>He swallows. </p><p>"I <em>care</em> about you, Kyle," he says, whispers, <em>means</em>. Tips his head forward to rest their foreheads together. "I missed you." </p><p>"I missed you, too," Kyle replies, breathes. Quiet. Genuine. "Fuck, I always do, Jason." He closes his eyes. "But I can't promise anything up there. I don't make promises I can't keep." </p><p>Jason swallows very inch of his pride and goes for fucking broke. </p><p>"Just promise that you'll come back home." He brushes his lips against Kyle's. "To me." </p><p>Kyle's eyes flutter open to bore into him, stardust soft and nebula green and so achingly <em>open</em> it makes Jason's teeth tingle. </p><p>"To you," he says, <em>promises</em>. Fond. "Okay. I can keep that one." </p>
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